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DICK'S 

DIVERTING DIALOGUES 



A COLLECTION OF 

EFFECTIVE DRAMATIC DIALOGUES 

WRITTEN BY VARIOUS AUTHORS AND SPECIALLY 
ADAPTED FOR PARLOR PERFORMANCES 

INCLUDING 

A COMPLETE PROGRAMME OF LIVING PICTURES 
WITH FULL DIRECTIONS FOR EXHIBITING 
' ^ THEM SUCCESSFULLY 



EDITED Bic/^ 

WILLIAM B DI 




NEW YOEK 

DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS 

18 ANN STREET 

S 






OOFTBIGHT, 1888, BT 

DICK & FITZGERALD. 



PREFACE. 



The Dialogues contained in this hook have heen carefully 
prepared to foster dramatic talent in young people ; and, 
as they have been written specially for this work, by 
various authors, they present sufficient variety of style to 
suit all tastes and capabilities. 

The necessity for elaborate scenery has been avoided as 
far as possible ; so that any parlor can be converted into an 
available stage, by the exercise of a little management and 
taste in the arrangement of the necessary furniture and 
other minor details. 

The Programme of Living Pictures offers a pleasing 
variety for introduction in an evening's entertainment, 
full instructions being given in everything needed to make 
their representation thoroughly successful. 



r 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

Lost and "Won 2 males.. 2 females.... 7 

Running for Office 3 males 22 

The Uncle. A Dramatic Proverb 2 males.. 1 female 28 

Love's Labor Not Lost 2 males.. 1 female 44 

Wanted— A Nurse 2 males.. 3 females.... 52 

Almost A Tragedy 2 males 34 

The Will. A Dramatic Proverb 3 males .. 1 female 59 

Who Wears the Breeches 1 male. ..1 female 66 

A Cold in the Head 2 males.. 4. females.... 78 

The Wedding Day. A Dramatic Proverb 3 males. . 1 female 89 

A Society for Doing Good 4 females.... 95 

The Reception. A Dramatic Proverb 3 males. . 2 females . . . .102 

Caught in Their Own Trap 3 males. .2 females. . ..110 

Elwood's Decision 4 males 117 

The Report. A Dramatic Proverb 1 male ... 2 females. . . .121 

The Reformed Mormon Tippler 1 male... 3 females 126 

The Fortune Hunter. A Dramatic Proverb.. .2 males. .2 females. . . .136 

Petticoat Government 2 m ales.. 1 female 141 

Now or Never. A Dramatic Proverb 3 males . . 1 female 160 

A Close Shave 2 males 166 

DRAMATIC PROVERBS. 

"Comparisons are Odious." The Uncle. 28 

" Don't Count Your Chickens Before they are Hatched." The Will. 59 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

"Better Late than Never.".... The Wedding Day. 89 

"A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed." The Reception. 102 

"Least Said, Soonest Mended." The Report. 121 

11 Listeners Never Hear any Good of Themselves." Fortune Hunter. 136 
• ' Delays are Dangerous. " Now or Never. 160 

LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX, 

Construction op the Picture Frame, etc 172 

Lighting the Pictures 173 

Management and General Directions 174 

Programme for an Exhibition 175 

Directions fob each Picture 175 to 180 



DICK'S 

DIVERTING DIALOGUES. 



LOST AND WON. 

By Miss Chapman. 



CHARACTERS. 



Josephine Morris. 
Nellie Ray. 



Harry Howard. 
Judge Clyde. 



SCENE I.— A Hotel Piazza. 
Enter Josephine and Nellie. 

Nellie. — How d'ye do, dear ? I've been awaiting your ap- 
pearance with the greatest impatience this half hour or more! 
It's a beautiful afternoon; don't you think it is, Josie? 

Josie (listlessly). — I suppose so ! 

Nellie. — You suppose so! How apathetic you are ! 

Josie. — Well then it is; if a .positive confirmation will suit 
you any better. 

Nellie. — It does'nt suit me much better, for it lacks the ring 
of true appreciation. You're a riddle, Josie ; a regular give-it- 
up conundrum! 

Josie.— I don't see why, I'm sure. I was'nt aware that any 
particular air of mystery enveloped my humble self. Pray ex- 
plain that speech, if you can ! 



8 LOST AND WON. 

Nellie.— Explain it? of course I can! your challenging 
tone does not scare me a bit. I say again, you are a riddle, and 
I give you up; and the "because", is, that with every thing to 
make your life a perfect dream of sunshine and flowers, you seem 
determined to be apathetic and unappreciative of the good thin&j 
which dame Fortune has cast into your lap. 

Josie. — "Well really, you have got a list of charges against me ! 
And since you seem to have constituted yourself judge, jury, an& 
witnesses to try this case, and I have no evidence to bring for- 
ward in my own favor, I suppose all I can do, is, to plead guilty 
and throw myself on the mercy of the court. So what is my 
sentence ? 

Nellie (laughing). — In consideration of your extreme youth, 
and the fact that this is a first offence, I will pass but a light 
sentence— and that is, that you give a full, sufficient, and satis- 
factory reason for such a state of things. 

Josie. — Your worship is certainly very lenient. But then, if 
I must, I must, I suppose ; so here goes for a clean breast of it. 
I know that as far as worldly advantages go, I occupy a very 
enviable position, and that I have a great deal more than I de- 
serve ; that any other girl would be thankful for half of what I 
was born to; and yet the fact remains, stubborn as true — I am 
sick of it all ! 

Nellie. — Well really! if that is'nt the most astonishing con- 
fession I ever heard in my life ! I should think any girl in her 
senses would be satisfied with even the half of your kingdom — 
not to mention your personal appearance, which I suppose you 
would not be so willing to divide. You're wonderfully pretty, 
Josie Morris ; do you know that ? 

Josie (ivearily). — Yes I know it, Nellie; and without any 
feeling of petty vanity, either, I know everybody says I am 
handsome, and I dress just as becomingly as I can, in order to 
make myself appear more so. Every girl does, Nellie ; only the 
majority of them are not candid enough to admit it. 

Nellie.— Well, that's a side issue, altogether, and I'm not go- 
ing to allow you to slip away from the subject under considera- 
tion in this manner, you sly boots ! With a month at Long 
Branch preceded by another at Newport, with your qwh carriage 



LOST AND WOK 9 

and horses at both places, as many signed checks to fill in as you 
need, and beaux as thick as blackberries in August— and yet 
sick of it all ! Josie, I think you are a monster ; and I'm pretty 
sure that Mr. Howard will arrive at the same conclusion before 
long if you don't smile a little less coldly upon him. 

Josie (aside). — Thank fortune for the self command I have 
learned to exercise, or my merry companion might discover the 
thrill that name always sends to my heart — (aloud) Mr. Howard's 
opinion of me is a matter of perfect indifference, in common with 
that of the rest of the gentlemen loungers at the Branch, inas- 
much as I care nothing for them or their views upon any subject. 

Xellie. — Why Josie, what ungrateful talk ! I declare, it is 
right down slander. 

Josie. — The gentleman would no doubt feel highly flattered 
to know that he had so warm an advocate in you. I shall begin 
to suspect that it is a sentiment warmer than friendship, that 
makes your tongue so eloquent in his cause, ma dure Xellie! 

Xellie (laughing). — Spare your suspicions, then, Miss Morris; 
such a humble satellite as myself, would never dream of as- 
piring to the full refulgence of such a brilliant constellation as 
Henry Howard. 

Josie. — Dear me, how distressingly poetical you are getting 
of late, Nellie ! and people say that it is one of the most infalli- 
ble evidences of the existence of the tender passion. Do let me 
presume upon my privileges as a friend, and beg to know his 
name? 

Nellie. — His name, indeed! can inspiration be drawn from 
nothing save swallow-tailed coats, I beg to inquire? Keally, I 
thought you had more of the leaven of M women's rights " in 
your composition, than to make such an admission! 

Josie. — I stand corrected my dear ! and promise to do better 
in future. What volume of poems have you been perusing, then, 
of late f 

Xellie. — There! you've hit it at last — and if you ask for the 
theme which afforded such inspiration, you can find it in the 
generally aggravating and stupid state of affairs existing at the 
present time. Here you and Harry Howard are so evidently 
well fitted for each other— been flirting desperately for a month, 



10 LOST AND WOK. 

too, — the best catch at the Branch, all the girls are just crazv_ 
after him — and there is no more reason why you should not get 
married, than — 

Josie. — There! stop, do, Nellie, or my patience will be worn 
threadbare, and I shall say something decidedly cross. Of 
course when people have money they will find plenty of devotees, 
whether they possess any brains to back it up with, or not; the 
all potent presence of bank bills, atone for any and eYery other 
deficiency. I declare it's too provoking that a rich girl should 
be so hunted down. 

Nellie. — That may be the case with some— and a large num- 
ber, I admit, Josie ; but you ought to be willing to acknowl- 
edge that there are exceptions. 

Josie. — I have failed to find any, so far. 

Nellie. — Oh pshaw ! I think Tm the one to get out of pa- 
tience, Josie! There's Mr. Howard; the very man we've just 
been discussing. 

Josie. — I dare venture that Mr. Howard's views and opinions, 
exactly coincide with those of his colleagues, in this respect. In 
what light are we considered by those whom society terms our 
"gentlemen friends"? Merely as pretty, animated puppets, to 
be dressed up without regard to expense, and paraded before the 
eyes of others, very much the same as store keepers put their 
showiest goods in the most prominent places. As for our being 
supposed to have any brains, any hearts, or any aspirations above 
such a tedious, insipid doll-life, that is utterly out of the question. 
Under the misnomer of "conversation,'' our ears must be re- 
galed with any amount of vapid small-talk,— because it is'nt 
supposed for a moment that we have any ideas above such rub- 
bish. And if we show these misguided creatures that we can 
meet them on their own plane of intelligence, it is at the risk of 
being denominated "strong minded" or "blue" from which 
terrible imputation not even the possession of money would ab- 
solve us. 

Nellie. — Josie, I think you have just discovered your voca- 
tion ; you need'nt talk any more after this of my eloquence! if I 
could deliver myself of such a speech as that, I would take to 
the lecturing field without hesitation. But I think you are a 



LOST AND WON. 11 

little too severe in yonr strictures upon Mr. Howard. I don't 
think he's one of that sort. 

Josie. — I do, then! and I despise this aimless, heartless, art- 
ificial life from .the bottom of my heart, and mean to have no 
more of it; I tell you, Nellie Ray, I am determined to leave 
this place to-morrow, where there is nothing but flirting and 
dressing, and seeing who can most deeply wound another's 
finest feelings ! Talk of Harry Howard ! what better is he than 
a puppet ? handsome, talented, I admit ; but also lazy, and 
without a yearning beyond the shade of a neck-tie or the fit of a 
kid glove. I tell you, I want to live, really live, as other people 
do, once in my life ! "Will you go with me $ anywhere, where 
Long Branch was never heard of, and Newport will never be! 

Nellie (aside). — If Mr. Howard could see you now, you dar- 
ling, he'd realize what a prize you are! — (aloud) — I will follow 
you to the ends of the earth, oh most potent queen of high 
tragedy ! Do you mean to emigrate to New Zealand, or further 
up Jersey? 

Josie. — I'll acquaint you more fully with my plans in the 
morning. 

Nellie. — I will endeavor to keep my curiosity within bounds 
until that time. But oh, what a sensation it will occasion 
among all the lesser stars, when it is discovered that one of their 
most luminous planets has suddenly disappeared from human 
sight and ken. [Exit Nellie. 

Josie. — Poor Mr. Howard ! ah Nellie ! you little know how 
every one of your careless words struck painfully on my heart — 
this willful heart of mine, that despite all I can do, despite the 
disappointment that has well nigh taken all the attractiveness 
out of my life, will persist in throbbing so tumultuously whenever 
Mr. Howard's name is mentioned or his form comes in sight. 
But I never will marry a man who has no soul or ideas above 
the trivial society topics and the latest freak in fashions, even 
though he were as handsome as Apollo and as rich as Croesus. 
I'll leave this place for some locality where I can act out the free 
impulses of my nature, and where no knowledge of my money 
shall serve as a glittering bait to lure such miserable specimens 
as have paid court to me here. But there are footsteps ; it must 



12 LOST AND WON. 

be Mr. Howard ; if I risk a meeting with him now, I shall be 
tempted to say something that I may repent of! [Exit Josie. 
Enter Mr. Howard. 
Mr. Howard. — Miss Morris ! ah ! she is not here. I have been 
too tardy to catch her, or else she has heard my coming and pur- 
posely avoided me. Perhaps it is just as well; it spares me the 
ordeal of parting with her; although it does cost me a pang in- 
deed to think that I must let her go without a word of the love 
which, despite my disappointment in her, still pleads for liberty 
to make itself known. But no ! I can never take as my wife such 
a mere butterfly of fashion as she is ; never receive for a life-long 
companion one whose only mental food seems to be the vapid 
simperings of the young squirts who pay court to her, and to 
which I despise myself for having descended, although it was the 
only com current among these moths. But there is no use in 
sermonizing out here all night ; I'll go in and see what an even- 
ing with the poets can do toward assuaging my disappointments. 

[Exit. 



SCENE II.— J. country road. 
Enter Josie and Nellie with baskets of blackberries. 

Josie. — Now Nellie Kay, what do you think of this? isn't it 
just the perfection of everything mortal ? 

Nellie. — Humph ! maybe you like it, but I'm blessed if I do ! 
I never did so much work for myself in my life as I have this last 
few weeks ; I feel as if our family had experienced sudden reverses 
and I had been compelled to hire out. I just tell you, Josie Mor- 
ris, I've got quite enough of rural country life, where one always 
is in calico and wide-brimmed straw hats ! 

Josie. — Ha ! ha ! ha ! what a piece of aristocracy you are, to 
be sure, Nellie Ray ! That contemptuous sniff at the intensely 
plebian aspect of your surroundings, couldn't have been given 
with better effect by a duchess, who by some incomprehensible 
combination of circumstances, might have found herself suddenly 
placed in your predicament ; it was quite regal, upon my word ! 
ha 1 ha ! ha ! 



LOST AND WON. 13 

r [Nellie (pouting). — Oh yes, you may laugh ! I dare say yon 
enjoy the pastime exceedingly ; and I'm snre I've no objection — 
every one to his taste — and yon always were the most unsolvable 
of riddles in your notions and opinions. As for me, I feel as if I 
had been doomed to wear calico for the rest of my natural life, 
and my hands are getting perfectly ruined ! I've half a mind to 
retract my part of the contract, and make my way back to civil- 
ized life, once more ! 

Josie.— I shan't allow you to turn deserter, Nellie. I've just 
begun to live, here ; when I want a feast of berries I can go and 
pick them with my own fingers, and get my nose scratched in the 
venture, if I please, with the utmost impunity, instead of having 
them brought to me on a silver waiter and delivered by my 
humble servant, with such excruciation of elegance and cere- 
mony that it is enough to take away one's appetite for a week. 
I tell you, Nellie, there is a glorious sense of independence in 
being able to have one's own hands supply the wants of the body 
to which they belong, and not to be dependent for the very breath 
I draw upon the graces of a liveried domestic. Why I can sit 
down on the grass, here, if I choose, and nobody scandalized, 
nobody to consult but my own will. 

Nellie (laughing). — Well, Josie Morris ! if any one had told 
me that the stately, dignified young lady of Long Branch and 
Newport, could have been transformed into such a hoyden, I 
should have thought they were taking leave of their senses. 
But do let us turn our steps homeward, I want to get this great 
clumsy umbrella of a hat off my head, so that I can look some- 
thing like a civilized being ! 

Josie. — Don't slander broadbrimmed hats, I beg, Nellie! re- 
member your five dollar Leghorn, with the crimson roses, and 
black velvet bows, and yard long ribbons, that you sported at 
the Branch. Because this brown flat with its one black ribbon 
only cost fifty cents, where's the difference ? 

Nellie. — There's a great deal of difference, to me. Besides, 
there is'nt a specimen of the masculine fraternity anywhere, to 
see ; — not a beau for twenty miles, who would know what we 
wanted if we attempted to inaugurate a fan flirtation ; the few 
people that these benighted parts can boast of are as ignorant of 



14 LOST AND WON 

any little recreation of that sort as if they were Sandwich 
Islanders ! 

Josie. — Ha! ha! ha! poor child! yon'll have to advertise, 
Nellie; don't see any other way. "Wanted, in a secluded 
village, a young man of prepossessing appearance, well versed 
in the art of handkerchief flirtations and kindred fashionable 
sciences /" 

Nellie. — Its no laughing matter, Josie ! I never was intended 
to be a " conntry mouse/' and don't mean to be one, either, I 
can assnre you, I might possibly endure the calico dresses, and 
the blackberrying, and riding on the hay-wagon, if there were 
only some gentlemen to enjoy our country comforts with us ! 

Josie. — I commiserate your loneliness with all my heart, ma 
chere ! I've no doubt the c ' Lords of Creation n would feel in- 
tensely flattered if they could know how indispensable they are 
to your happiness ! 

Nellie. — Well they are; and one might as well be honest 
about it ! I wish Mr. Howard was here. 

Josie {starting). — Well I don't! and since you are so per- 
fectly inconsolable for one of the sterner sex on whom to exercise 
your powers of fascination, perhaps you will appreciate the news 
which Farmer Mles's wife volunteered this morning — that over 
at the " big house " that the village boasts, there has arrived a 
young man from somewhere — Judge Clyde's nephew ! 

Nellie. — You don't say so, Josie Morris ! how perfectly 
delightful ! Let's go right home and dress and drive past Judge 
Clyde's. Will you ? 

Josie.— Don't build too high an air castle, Nellie ! I'm afraid 
our efforts in that direction will hardly be appreciated. Mrs. 
Miles favored me with a voluminous description of the young 
man's style; and I iufer very readily that this Mr. Clyde- is one 
of those grave, reticent men, who especially despise such butter- 
flies of fashion as we profess to be. He's a philanthropist, she 
says ; and such a worker, too, on his uncle's estate, — improv- 
ing the stock and the land,— in fact, Mrs. Miles says he has 
worked himself nearly into an illness. He has been off recu- 
perating, and has returned. 

Nellie. — Then I consider the last chance I entertained of air* 



LOST AND WON. 15 

ing my lovely white grenadine, an ignominious failure ! Anyway, 
I'm bound to see him, Josie. 

Josie. — Talk about a woman not having determination ! But 
what way do you propose to effect it ? — send him a challenge to 
single combat, at — croquet? 

Nellie.— Xo ; he might back out; I'll make the interview a 
surer one than that. There ! I'll tell you, Josie ! let's go up to 
the big house and sell our blackberries ! that'll be the gayest 
lark we've had this summer ! What do you say ? 

Josie. — Say? why "yes" of course! you deserve considerable 
credit for that scintillation, Xellie ! Let us start right away ; 
it's early, yet, and that young paragon of a nephew will be very 
likely to be somewhere around the house, just at this time ! 

[Exeunt. 



SCEXE III.— Piazza of Judge Clyde's house. 
Judge and his Xephew on the piazza. 

Judge. — Well my boy, does the old place look attractive to 
you? the same as it did before you left it to bask in the smiles of 
the Long Branch belles ? 

Harry. — Just the same, uncle, I assure you ; if there is any 
change, it is in your and its favor. I come back to it with a 
feeling of intense relief, and don't feel as if I should care ever to 
leave it again. 

Judge. — Well, that sounds comforting; fashion and fortune 
haven't quite spoiled you, yet, I see, and I'm heartily glad of it ! 
The place has been as lonely as possible during your absence, — 
but it seems like home, again, to have you back. If you had 
known how we missed you, you would have come before your 
letters began to grow so gloomy. It was some girl or other, I'll 
be bound, that upset you so. Honor bright, wasn't it ? 

Harry. — I may as well be candid, and confess that it was ! 
A girl with the face of an angel, and the soul of a sparrow, — 
whose winning ways drove me mad, while her ambitionless 
existence, her outrageous pride and vanity, repelled me. Uncle 
Joe, I couldn't marry a woman like that ; one whose whole life 



16 LOST AND WON. 

is absorbed in the worship of fashion , who has not a taste or a 
sentiment above it ! 

Judge. — Did you ever try the experiment with her Harry ? 

Harry. — The only experiment I needed was the evidence of 
my own senses, uncle ! I did once or twice advance a sensible 
remark, but she regarded me with such open-eyed wonder that I 
was obliged to desist and degenerate into the trivial gossip current 
among them. I don't know whether most to despise my 'self Tor 
purchasing her acquaintance at such a sacrifice of my common- 
sense and self-respect, or to pity her, that such an attractive 
exterior should have such a scarcity of anything like a living, 
intelligent soul ! 

Judge. — Why you are a severe critic, Harry, don't you know 
that girls— or I should say, young ladies — only come into the 
world, now-a-days, to look pretty, make conquests, and keep 
u papa's " purse-strings distended to their fullest extent, in foot- 
ing up their dressmakers' and milliners' bills. 

Harry.— One would think so, indeed, and yet what a de- 
grading view to take of those destined to be our partners for life, 
and our greatest earthly joy and comfort. I fancy my peerless 
beauty, if she should see me now, bereft of my fashionable trap- 
pings, and attired only as any other man. I can see her aristo- 
cratic nose elevate at an angle of forty-five degrees ! Talk about 
our sex being money- worshippers ! it's bad enough in a man, but 
it's altogether unpardonable in a woman ! and yet it was my 
money that procured for me an ' ■ open sesame " to the smiles and 
graces of all the fair demoiselles at the Branch. 

Judge.— Well, I sympathize with you, Harry, with all my 
heart, and she deserves to lose you, only the pity is she ought to 
know what she's missed. But who are these persons coming in 
at the gate. 

Harry. — Fruit peddlers, I guess, by the pails on their arms. 
Don't trouble yourself to move, uncle, we'll know what they 
want, presently. (Aside) If I could only see Josie, once, in a 
garb so nnpretentious as that, I'd propose to her the next minute 
(takes up a newspaper). 

Enter Josie and Nellie. 

Nellie.— Now don't be afraid Josie ! go right up and ask him. 



LOST AND WON. 17 

Josie. — Oh, how kind you are ! you proposed the plan, and 
upon your shoulders devolves the responsibility of taking the 
initiative. Come, let's see how you'll do as an impromptu 
peddler. 

Nellie. — Yery well; here goes, then! only don't you under- 
take to dim the glory of my achievement by claiming any of the 
credit — {stepping forward) — Will you take my berries, sir? ■ 

Judge (bending forward).— Excuse me! What did you say 
miss? 

Nellie (courtesying).— Would you like to buy my berries, sir ? 
only six cents a quart, fresh picked since sunrise ; they're very 
nice— (aside)— bother ! that's the nephew, I suppose, with his 
face buried in his newspaper ! Why don't he raise his head and 
let a body see what he looks like ! He must be dreadfully shy 
or dreadfully ugly— one of the two ! 

Judge.— I like the looks of your berries very much, miss; how 
many have you ? and perhaps your friend has some, too ? if I 
take any it will be the whole lot. 

Josie (aside). — There's no help for it ! I must go forward, too, 
and subject myself to that awful Judge's scrutiny. I declare, I 
hope his nephew— if that is he— won't look up until we make 
good our escape. I begin to repent having embarked in Nellie's 
madcap enterprise— (steps forward) here they are, sir, but — 

Harrv (looking up— aside— ). — By all the powers! if that 
is'nt— ! — Wait; I'll electrify them ! — (steps forward— ) Perhaps 
Miss Morris will sell hers cheaper than Miss Ray, on the 
strength of old acquaintance! 

Josie (dropping her pail). — Mr. Howard! 

Harry (laughing).— I hope I don't inspire such horror as I 
see depicted in your eyes, Miss Morris! Do calm your troubled 
nerves. I assure you, I am not at all dangerous ! 

Josie. — But Mr. Howard, I— I— thought it was Judge Clyde's 
nephew. Mrs. Miles said — 

Harry.— Mrs. Miles was quite right— although it may be that 
she has been a trifle more eulogistic of my virtues than the occa- 
sion would justify ! I am Judge Clyde's nephew ; — and may I 
hope in this new sudden light, equally Miss Josie's friend and 
Miss Ray's? 



18 LOST AND WON. 

Judge, (aside).— Ah ha! sets the wind in that direction? 
the boy's face is fairly transformed ! 

Josie (aside). — If this is'nt the most provoking dilemma a 
body conld have blundered into! but how much handsomer he 
looks just now, even in that plain suit, than he ever did in the 
whirl and glitter at the Branch! 

Harry (aside). — She hesitates — and it only makes me love 
her more— the darling! I never knew she was half so attractive 
before ; that plain calico and simple flat serve as such an excel- 
lent foil to her beauty. And she cannot be a mere butterfly, 
either, or she would never be here — a quiet, unfashionable place 
like this— in such a costume ! 

Josie (aside). — I'll give him one more chance before I throw 
away my happiness for ever ; for I can't believe that this meeting 
was the result of mere accident — (aloud)— perhaps Mr. Howard 
may not deem a simple, country berry-girl, so worthy of his ac- 
quaintance or friendship, as the popular Miss Morris of Long 
Branch! 

Harry. — A thousand times more so when the animated and 
speaking eye betckens the presence of such a spirit within. 
Miss Josie, let me ask your pardon for having utterly misunder- 
stood and misappreciated you; let me fulfill a vow I made to 
myself not live minutes ago — let me purchase your berries, and 
in return for them let me offer — myself ! 

Judge. — I declare, how the boy pleads ! I'd no idea he was 
so eloquent before — but Love seems to be a wonderful sharpener 
of the wits ! So this is the inamorata) — by what chance has she 
come to light here, I wonder ? 

Josie (laughing). — My berries are pretty nearly annihilated, Mr. 
Howard ! but you seem to take it for granted that I am quite 
reconciled to the difference in your appearance, from what it 
presented a few weeks ago, at the Branch. What reason have 
you for such a supposition, I beg to inquire '? 

Judge. — Ah ha ! my boy ! you're not going to effect a recon- 
ciliation so easily ! I admire the girl's pluck ! 

Harry. — For the reason that I now believe that there is a chord 
in each of our hearts, that beats responsive to the other; that I feel I 
have incontrovertible proof that your nature can sympathize and 



LOST AND WON. 19 

harmonize with mine to its fullest extent and capacity ! Because 
I love you and cannot, will not, consent to live without you ! 

Josie. — And you think the " butterfly of fashion," whose 
proper food is the mere froth of adulation and gossip, can com- 
prehend any such high flown utterances as these ? have you for- 
gotten that they are altogether above the range of her apprecia- 
tion or intelligence ? 

Judge. — Bravo ! she is paying you back in your own coin with 
a vengeance ! You've got to put on all your armor to win the 
bout this time, Harry, but it's worth the winning ! 

Nellie. — Now see here! there is no earthly use in you two 
people beating around the bush after this fashion ! You needn't 
try to frown me into silence, Josie Moms, for I'm going to give 
in my testimony in defiance of all consequences ! The fact is, 
Mr. Howard, Josie and you have mutually misunderstood each 
other— she had the same opinion of you that you had of her, and 
she became at last so disgusted with the vapid and utterly sense- 
less life at the Branch and kindred marts of fashion, that she 
came down here to ruralize and live — as she called it ! 

Judge. — And took up blackberry peddling as a means of pro- 
curing that same living, eh ? ha ! ha ! ha ! I'll engage to buy of 
both of you all summer ! 

Nellie. — No, sir ; the selling of the blackberries was a pet 
project of my own, in order to gain a glimpse at the u splendid 
young gentleman " at the Judge's house, whose praises Mrs. Miles 
has been sounding in our ears for the past day or so. Have I de- 
generated into a hopeless hoyden in your estimation, Mr. Howard? 

Harry. — By no means, Miss Ray, indeed you have unwittingly 
been the agent m effecting that for which I shall remember you 
gratefully all my life. Miss Morris, let me express my deep regret 
Tor the error into which I have fallen concerning you, and crave 
your forgiveness. Is it granted ? 

Josie {aside). — I can resist him and trifle with my happiness 
no longer ! (extending her hand) Freely, Mr. Howard ! and I ask 
the same, on my part, from you ! 

Harry. — Josie, your tone emboldens me to make another 
request. I have your forgiveness, may I not also have your love ? 
your sweet presence in my home as my honored wife ? 



20 LOST AND WON. 

~ Judge.— Let me add a word in the lad's cause, my dear, for I 
know now that you are the one who has worked such mischief 
with his peace of mind, these last few weeks. The boy loves you 
dearly; and though I say it, is as well worthy of you, as I firmly 
believe you are of him. 'Will you not let me welcome you as a 
niece ? 

Xellie. — Come now, Josie, give in ! you love him — you know 
you do !— and so have I known it, all along ! 

Josie. — Nellie hush! I — 

Harry. — Your radiant face has answered my question, and 
spoken hope to my heart already ! will not your sweet lips con- 
firm it, darling? Let me hear you say— Harry I love you; I 
will be your wife ! 

Josie. — And you shall be obeyed. Harry I love you ; I will 
be your wife ! (places lier hand in his.) 

Harry.— God bless you, darling ! and you feel that you can 
be happy with me ? 

Josie (rougishJy). — Yes, Harry, provided you promise that 
during the first year or so of our married life, until I grow more 
intellectual, you will not converse with me in words of more 
than two syllables ! 

Harry (reproachfully).— J osie ! I shall not dare to hope that 
you have forgiven me ! 

Xellie. — I think you have given each other ample evidence 
in this sparring match, that you possess, at least, a moderate 
allowance of brains ! so you may as well make up your minds 
to endure each other since fate seems to have adjusted her 
decrees to that effect ! 

Judge. — Quite a commendable piece of advice ! pray where 
did you gain so much wisdom and sagacity, my dear ? 

Nellie. — It's purely original, I assure you, sir! it is a peculiar 
characteristic of mine. 

Judge. — Indeed ! allow me to congratulate you upon being 
so clever; and also upon the success of your innocent enterprise. 

Harry (laughing).— And I must return my acknowledg- 
ments for the flattering opinion Miss Kay had formed of my per- 
sonal appearance, that incited her to embark on this perilous 
undertaking, which has resulted in such a happy denouement ! 



LOST AND WON 21 

r Nellie. — Thank yon! and indeed I take upon myself the 
credit of this reconciliation ! I think I may justly claim to he the 
good genius of all distressed lovers ! and that unweaving the 
tangled skein of unpropitious circumstances, is decidedly my 
forte ! 

Josie.— Mercy, Nellie ! if you use many more of those fourteen 
syllahled words, Mr. Howard will reverse his former criticism, 
and consider us "blues," of the darkest, most desperate dye ! 

Harry. — Well, since we have effected such a satisfactory 
bargain with regard to these berries, I move that we hand over 
those that have escaped complete demolition, to the kindly 
offices of the housekeeper. 

Nellie. — No I thank you, sir! she might make love to the 
best part of them herself! 

Harry (laughing). — Perhaps so, if she thought with me, that 
. the best part of them was their present possessor ! 

Nellie. — No compliments to me, sir! Josie has the right of 
monopoly in that line, now ! Just direct me to the kitchen, if 
you please, Judge Clyde, and I'll soon demonstrate to you that 
Long Branch belles are not all incapable of using their hands to 
some useful purpose. 

Josie. — And I insist on being allowed to go and help her! 

Harry. — Then we'll all go, and uncle and I will be specta- 
tors! But first let me tell you, darling, of the joy and gratitude 
that pulsates through my heart to find, that she, over whom as 
a mere unthinking, trivial butterfly of fashion, I grieved as lost, 
I have, when revealed in her own, true, womanly, attractive 
character, to my everlasting happiness and contentment, — 
so happily icon. 

CUBTAIN. 



RUfflOTG FOR OFFICE. 

By H. Elliott McBride. 



CHARACTERS. 
Mr. Job Johnston, A small farmer and a candidate for office. 
Mr. Henry Robes, His friend. 
Jacob Ziiimel, Mr. Johnston* s man of all icorlc. 



SCEXE I. — A room. Mr. Johnston and Mr. Hobbs dis- 
covered seated. 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, I hey thought the matter over fur 
some time, and I hey concluded to run far County Commis- 
sioner. I hey been workin' in the party and yotin* with the 
party eyer since I commenced to yote, and I think I ought to 
hey an office jist as well as anybody else. I am purty yell 
eddicated, and I think I kin hold that office in a right and 
proper manner. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's so : 

Mr. Johnston. — Things hey got into sich a way in this 
county that when a man gets into office he wants to stay there 
all the time. Now, that's jist the way it is with Tom Eaynor, 
the man who has the office of County Commissioner now. He 
has had the office fur two tarms, and he wants to git it fur 
another tarm. I don't belieye in dom' business in that way ; 
I go in fur rotatory motion in office. 

Mr. Hobbs.— Yes, that's what I go in fur. 

Mr. Johnston (rising and walking about). — I hey been a 
hard workm' man all my life, and I think I ought to hey a rest 
now. I think that this thing of holdin' office should go round 
amongst the people and not stay all the time in one place. 
That is, I mean that a few men shouldn't git all the offices aud 
the rest of the people git none. 

Mr. Hobbs. — That's jist what I think about it. 

Mr. Johnston. — I feel that I hev got enough of an eddication 
fur to go into the office of County Conunissioner. I am purty 



BUNKING FOE OFFICE. 23 

sure that I kin do the work which has to be done in and abont 
the office. I am a good deal better eddicated than Tom Raynor. 
Tom Raynor never had much of an eddication. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Xo, I s'pose he hadn't. 

Mr. Johnston. — I hev had a good deal of experience in doin' 
business. I have been doin' business now fur twenty -five years, 
and I know all about how business ought to be transacted. 
There ain't many men that kin git ahead of me in makm' a bar- 
gain. I tell you, Henry, we don't git the right kind of men into 
office somehow. TTe git sich men as Tom Raynor. Tom 
Raynor is a man that has never had any experience of any ac- 
count. He don't know how to drive a bargain ; he don't know 
how to attend to the duties of his office ; he don't know nothin'. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's so! 

Mr. Johnston. — Xow, there ought to be sich a man as me in 
that office. I tell you if I was there things would be different. 
There should'nt be sich high taxes, there should'nt be any 
cheatin' and stealin' from the county. I would wake things up 
and make the rascals flee away. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, you'd jist be the man fur the place. 

Mr. Johnston. — And I think I'll git the nomination too. 
I've been electioneerin' some, and everybody I hev talked to 
seems to be of the opinion that I am jist the man fur the place. 
I hev been in the party fur a long time and it would be usin' me 
purty mean if they did'nt give me the nomination. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, it would so ! 

Mr. Johnston. — But I feel purty sure I will git the nomina- 
tion, and when I git it I will hev no trouble in gittin' elected, 
fur our party always makes a clean sweep in this county. 

Mr. Hobbs.— Yes, that's so! 

Mr. Johnston. — But I must be movin'. I must up to Riker- 
ville and come down past HobblestowiL I hev a great many 
friends I want to see, and the time fur the nominatin' convention 
is comin' purty nigh. I must be a movin' fur I don't want to lose 
the nomination now, after losin' so much of my time. 

Mr. Hobbs (rising). — Yes, that's so! 

Mr. Johnston.— Yes, these are busy times and I must keep 
movin\ [Exeunt Mr. Johnston and Mr. Hobbs. 



24 BURNING FOB OFFICE, 

Miter Jacob, B. 

Jacob.— Yell, I tinks dot Mr. Shonston has peen malon* too 
much fuss apout gittin indo office. Now I vould'nt run afder 
office so much bad as dot. To dell de truth apout de madder, I 
vould'nt pe poddered vith an office. Dem fellers dot git indo 
office dey purty nigh always gits to lyin' und swearin' und 
stealin' und drinkin', und I tinks dey had petter stay at home 
und nefer mind de offices. Now, I shoost hope dot Mr. Shonston 
von't git de office vich he is tryin' so pig hard fur to git. If he 
vould git it he vould not do any more goot,— he vould shoost 
not addend to his peesness at all. Then I am linn' here I haf to 
appear to vant Mr. Shonston te git into office, but I ton't vant 
him a pit a'ready to git into de office. I spose I vill haf to vote 
fur him pecause if I did'nt und he should find it oud he vould 
make me leave purty quick a'ready. I ton't vant to leaf here. 
Dis is von purty doleraple goot place to stay, und I tink I shall 
haf to vote fur Mr. Shonston und keep on stayin' here. 

Enter Mr. Johnston, L. 

Mr. Johnston. — "Well, Jacob, have you heard the news ? 

Jacob. — No, I haf nt heard notings. Yot is de news ? 

Mr. Johnston. — The convention is over and I hev peen de- 
feated — I did'nt git the nomination. 

Jacob. — Tunder! Is dot so? Yell, I tinks dot is putty good. 

Mr. Johnston. — Tou don't mean that, do you, Jacob? 

Jacob. — You can't git indo de office ? Is dot vot's de madder ? 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, they did'nt nominate me. 

Jacob. — Yell, vot's to pe done apout it ? Yill you kick up a 
fuss? 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, I will. It was downright shabby to 
use me so. I ought to hev had the office, — fur I've been a great 
politician and have worked in the party fur twenty-five years. 

Jacob. — Yot haf you peen vorkin' at? 

Mr. Johnston. — You don't understand me Jacob. I have 
been in the party and hev been workin' fur the party and votin' 
with it. When a man sticks to a party fur twenty-five years he 
ought to hev an office. I am not satisfied at all — I won't endure 
it. 



ET7NXIXG FOB OFFICE. 25 

Jacob. — But vot are yon goin' to do? How are you goin' to 
git at fur to kick up a fuss 1 

Mr. Johnston. — ^ell, I'll tell you. I am goin' to run as an 
independent candidate. 

Jacob. — Yere are you goin' to run to? 

Mr. Johnston.— 0, Jacob, you don't understand English. I 
am goin' to be a candidate anyhow, and I feel sure I will be 
elected, far the people see I hev been shamefully treated. Each 
party will nominate a man and then I will be a candidate too. 
That's runnin' as an independent candidate. 

Jacob. — Und vot will you do if de beople von't elect yout 

Mr. Johnston. — Oh, I'll be elected, — you needn't git scared 
about that. The people see that I have been shamefully treated, 
and they will rise up in their indignation and carry me triumph- 
antly in office. 

Jacob. — Is dot de vay dey do in dis gountry ? 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, this is a glorious country, and when the 
people see that there is wrong-doin' goin' on they rise up in their 
might and put the man in office whu is entitled to it. 

Jacob. — Und I s'pose dot you is de man dot is entitled to dis 
office? 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, I am the man and I must be elected. 
I am edicated and I hev been in business fur twenty-five years. 

Jacob. — Den you is shoost de man. 

Mr. Johnston. — I feel sure that the people will stand by me; 
they will see that I hev not had fair play and they will rise up 
and with a great shout they will rush to the polls and elect me 
to the office which I ought to hev. 

Jacob. — Yell, I'd petter go oud und git to diggin' dem 
botaters. [Exit Jacob L. 



ACT II. 

SCEXE n.— Same as first act.— Mr. Johnston/Mr. Hobbs 
and Jacob seated. 
Mr. Johnston.— 'Well, the election is over and I am defeated. 
And what an awful defeat it is too ! I only got ten votes. 



26 BUNKING FOB OFFICE. 

(Rising and walking about.) I declare this is too bacL Fdidn't 
know I was livin' in sich a place and among sich ungrateful 
people. Why shouldn't I hev had the office ? TThy didn't the 
people vote fur me when they said jist to my face that I was jist 
the man fur the office ? It is an outrage to be treated in this 
way. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's so ! 

Jacob. — Yell, Mr. Shonston, I vould nefer touch a oolitic 
again. Und if de boliticians vould come aroundt you again I 
shoost vould knock dem all ofer. 

Mr. Johnston. — I am an eddicated man, and I am well quali- 
fied fur the position and the people of the county all know this, 
yet when I run fur the office the people turn around and vote fur 
Tom Eaynor and the other man. Some of them have had the 
impudence to tell me that I should not hev run as an independent 
candidate. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's what some of them said to me about it. 

Mr. Johnston. — That's a nice way fur men to talk, now isn't 
it? Jist as if I didn't know my own business. I believe that 
when a man gits treated the way I was he ought to rise up and 
run as an independent candidate. And the people ought all to 
rush up and elect that man. But in this county the people are 
all blockheads. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's so ! 

Mr. Johnston. — TThen the people don't git the right man 
nominated they ought to turn round and vote fur the man who 
ought to hev got the nomination. But the people here don't 
know anything. They jist vote fur whoever gits the nomina- 
tion. They think it would be a dreadful thing to leave the 
party. 

Jacob. — Yell, I tinks dot dis bolitics is a purty droublesome 
peesness. 

Mr. Johnston. — Yes, it is. 

Mr. Hobbs. — Yes, that's so * 

Mr. Johnston. — I am goin' to stop now. I won't hev nothin' 
more to do with politics. I won't even go to the polls and vote 
fur anybody else. I've been . shamefully treated— I've been 
abused. 



RUNNING FOR OFFICE. 27 

Jacob (aside).— Veil, if he quits de bolides I s'pose der bo- 
taters rill pe petter addended to. 

Mr. Johnston. — I'm done with politics and politicians ; yes, 
I'm done with them forever. I've been shamefully abused. 

Mr. Hobbs.— Yes, that's so ! 

Jacob. — Tell, Mr. Shonston, I tinks dat is shoost righd ; I 
wouldn't touch dem nohow. Shoost look at me— I ton't bodder 
vith bolitics, and I alvays feels purty good. I am shoost von 
Sharman vot addends to my own peesness, and I feel a good 
deal petterish as anypody vot bodders himself apont bolitics. 
This pig fool election is ofer nnd now I tinks ve can go ondt und 
git dem botaters raised np a'ready. 

Mr. Johnston.— Yes, but before we go I want to say a word 
to the audience. 

Mr. Hobbs. — That's so ! TVe ought to say a word to the 
audience. 

Jacob.— Yell, I ton't know vot you haf got to say to de 
audience. I s'pose dey don't care nothin' apout der botaters. 

Mr. Johnston (to audience). — I will never more dabble in 
politics. 

Jacob (to audience). — He's shoost righd, but he's goin' to 
dapple a good deal more in de botater peesness. 

Mr. Hobbs.— Yes, that's so ! 

Mr. Johnston. — When a plain fellow such as I am, gets an 
idea that he ought to hold some office, my experience shews me 
that the best office for him, and the one for which he is most 
fitted, is his own office, his own business ; and as to running as 
an independent candidate, he is only offering one more example 
of falling to the ground between two stools. 

Mr. Hobbs.— Yes, that's so. 

Mr. Johnston. — Oh! you old magpie! Come, Jake — 

[Exeunt Mr. Johnston and Jacob, E. 

Mr. Hobbs.— That's not *o ! [Exit L. 

cuBijjy. 



28 



THE UNCLE, 

OR, 

"COMPAKISONS AEE ODIOUS." 

By Ellen Pickering. 

Note.— This, and all the other dialogues by Miss Pickering, illustrate 
proverbs, and may be performed in either of two ways : (1) They may be 
given as illustrations of the proverbs, the proverb being announced be- 
forehand ; or (2), as originally intended, without previous announcement, 
in which case the audience should be asked to guess the proverb at the 
conclusion of the piece. When this plan is adopted the second titles of 
the pieces should be omitted from the programme. 



CHARACTERS. 
Uncle. | Selby. Niece.. 



TJie Niece turns with mingled eagerness and confusion towards 
Iter Uncle, who enters immediately after her 

Niece. — Well, uncle, well ? 

Uncle (pettishly). — "Well, well, well ! That is always the 
cry with boys and girls, like the eternal jug, jug, jug ! of the 
nightingale. 

Niece (coaxingly). — A musical cry, dear uncle, by your own 
showing. 

Uncle. — Not at all ; the jug, jug, jug, of the nightingale 
would not be thought one note more musical than a tinman's 
call of pots and pans, if the bird uttered his cry by day instead 
of night. 

Niece. — Oh, uncle, uncle ! how can you talk such treason? 
The poets and lovers will toss you in a blanket, when they can 
catch you, for abusing their own peculiar bird . 

Uncle. — Better toss a pancake, that may save them from 
starving, which is, or ought to be, the fate of such useless 
creatures as lovers and poets. Peculiar bird, indeed ! ay, so it 



THE UNCLE. 29 

is, just as idle and worthless, dreaming all day, and making a 
noise at night. 

Niece (half affronted) . — Idle and worthless, uncle ; 

Uncle.— Ay, idle and worthless, all three of them. Where is 
the nightingale, lover, or poet, that can furnish a friend a good 
roast or boil ? Who ever got anything from either, I should 
like to know, except a fit of the toothache or a fit of the yawns 
from listening to their nonsense. 

Niece.— But uncle, dear uncle ! 

Uncle.— Don't dear me, as termagant wives do their hus- 
bands when in their most Xantippe moods. Don't talk stuff 
about the nightingale. Women always talk stuff. A woman, 
like a Frenchman, never knows when she is beaten, or when to 
hold her tongue. 

Niece.— I am sure I should know when I was beaten, uncle, 
so pray don't try : my cries would disprove your assertion. 

Uncle. — It might do you good. A woman, 

"Like a spaniel and a walnut tree, 
The more you beat them, the better they'll be." 

Niece. — Fie, uncle, to use such horrid, musty old proverbs. 
The new saving is 

Uncle. —I hate new sayings and new ways. What are they 
but a fiz, a fuss, and a blow up : and the brains of those who 
used them, if they ever had any, flying over the country like 
thistledown. 

Niece. — You have such strange comparisons, uncle. But you 
are tired, I see : just sit down, and tell me all you have heard. 

Uncle {talcing the seat she hands him). — Tell you all I have 
heard ? Ay, women are like the lion at Yenice, their mouths 
ever open, ready to receive intelligence of all sorts. Do you 
think, like Briareus, I have fifty heads ? 

Niece.— Well, uncle, I don't want to hear all. 

Uncle. — Well, I tell you again, it is ill. Like a bad 
barometer, you always say it is fine weather when it is foul. 

Niece (coaxingly). — I will be like anything you please, uncle, 
only just tell me, did you see ? (pauses in confusion). 

Uncle (mischievously). — See what ? A monkey or a raccoon ? 
I saw a goose, if that is what you would know. 



30 THE UNCLE. 

Niece. — No, uncle, yon know what I mean. 

Uncle. — Young girls, like half the crack enigmas, mean 
nothing. 

Niece. — Did you see him, I mean? 

Uncle. — I saw a great many hims ; which is your him? 

Niece (coloring). — You know very well, uncle, whom I mean 
—Mr. Selby. 

Uncle.— Oh, Mr. Selby is your him: old Mrs. Crutcheley's 
him is her do-nothing, good-for-nought, graceless nephew, Jack 
Hare. All the hims seem much of a muchery. 

Niece (indignantly). — Oh, uncle! 

Uncle. — And oh niece ! You look like a tragedy queen, when 
told that her salary is to be lowered, and she is to play the old 
nurse instead of Juliet. 

Niece. — Oh, uncle ! you grow worse and worse. 

Uncle. — Like a stair carpet trampled on every day. 

Niece {pettishly). — I am sure it is you who trampled on 
others, teasing one, day after day ; never giving a plain answer, 
but always making rude comparisons. 

Uncle. — And you, like a note of interrogation, never do any- 
thing but ask questions. "What do you want to know now, 
child? 

Niece (brightening). — Did you see him, uncle ? 

Uncle. — Whose him, yours or old Mrs. Crutcheley's? 

Niece. — Nonsence, uncle : Mr. Selby. 

Uncle. — Yes, I did. 

Niece (liesitatingly). — And — and — and — how do you like him? 

Uncle. — Pretty well, as much as a gray headed old rat likes 
a worrying young terrier. 

Niece (indignantly). — Terrier, indeed ! I am sure Mr. Selby 
is not at all like a terrier. 

Uncle. — Don't put yourself in a passion, child, looking like a 
ruffled hen with one chick. 

Niece. — I am sure Mr. Selby never worried any one. 

Uncle. —Take care, child, that he does not worry you : I am 
sure he worried me. There was no sit still in him : he hopped 
about like a parched pea. 

Niece. — I am sure he is not like a parched pea. 



THE UNCLE. 31 

Uncle. — A monkey then, skipping abont in every direction, to 
the peril of my gonty toe, and the ornamental china ; or else 
pacing up and down like an ursine sloth, or some other caged 
animal. 

Xiece {warmly). — Monkey, or ursine sloth, indeed ! you are 
always saying strange things, uncle, and making strange com- 
parisons. I am sure Mr. Selby is not like either j every one else 
says he is handsome. 

Uncle.— 

M He'8 as tall and as straight as a poplar tree, 
And his cheeks are as red as a rose ; 
And he looks like a squire of high degree, 
When dressed in his Sunday's clothes." 

JS"iece (with a pout). — He looks like a gentleman in any 
clothes ; and I am sure his face is not vulgarly red. 

Uncle. — No, no; he is as white as a miller's coat, looking 
just like the little paste pigs at the confectioner's round the 
corner — a dab of dough with two currants for eyes. Will that 
content you ? 

Niece. — I am sure he is not at all too pale ; I hate men with red 
faces like an ill-painted fiery sun. Every one else thinks Mr. 
Selby very interesting. 

Uncle. — Oh, yes ! as interesting as a Miss in her teens — a 
perfect Miss Molly. 

Xiece. — (with a toss of the head). — He is not at all Mollyish; 
he is as manly as any one, only not so rough, and rude, and 
disagreeable as some people are. 

Uncle. — Ay, plenty of soft sawder. A piece of perfection ! 
Lovers always are, like a new purchase, till the gilt is worn off 
a little, and then the pinchbeck shows underneath. 

Xiece. — For shame, uncle, for shame ! I am sure there is no 
gilt or pinchbeck about Mr. Selby ; he is all pure, solid gold. 

Uncle. — Pure fiddlestick ! solid flesh, you mean. But what 
is the matter with you, child ? What do you pant like a pouting 
pigeon for ? Say what I will, there is no contenting you. 

Xiece. — Content me, indeed ! How can I be contented when 
you say all you can to vex me ? 

Uncle.— Yex you, child ? Why, you are as fanciful as a fina 



32 IRE UNCLE. 

lady who has everything her own way. If the wind is in the 
north she has a cough — if in the south she is lackadaisical — if in 
the east she has the megrims — and if in the west she pouts ; you 
may box the compass, but you will never please her. I am 
sure I compared your lover to all sorts of things. 

Niece. — All sorts of things, truly ! Now, don't compare him 
to anything else, there is a dear, kind uncle, but tell me how 
you like him. 

Uncle. — How I like him? Why, about as much as a fit of 
the gout, 

•' Which cannot be cured 
So must be endured." 

Niece. — Endured, uncle ! Is that all you say ? Mr. Selby is 
generally considered clever, amusing 

Uncle {interrupting her). — Stop, child, stop ! Don't run on 
like a showman . Mr. Selby is your lover, and of course, as I 
said before, in your eyes perfect. All lovers are. 

Niece. — Mr. Selby has many virtues in the eyes of others. 

Uncle. — Oh, doubtless ! many virtues. He is everything by 
fits, and nothing long, as I found to my cost this morning ; now 
hopping about like a parched pea on a sounding board, then 
standing in the centre of the room with his arms extended like 
an ill-cut statue : one moment sighing away like the bellows of 
a forge, and the next boring me with a list of your perfections, 
in the style of one of Pyle's advertisements. Lovers always are 
the most silly, fantastical, tiresome bores in existence. 
Selby entering at the moment 

Selby. — What are lovers, sir? 

Uncle. — Diamonds without a flaw in their mistress's eyes. A 
woman in love is never a good lapidary. 

Selby. — But what are lovers in your eyes, sir? Judging from 
your own words, your experience must have been a sad one. 

Uncle. — Pirates, sailing under false colors, seeming of any 
mind or performing any action to secure their prey. 

Selby {good-humor -edly). — You are hard upon us lovers, sir ; 
your fair niece, I trust, judges more kindly, and will not fear to 
commit her happiness into my_keeping. 



THE UNCLE. 33 

'' Uncle. — 2Tot she, yon may be sure : a blind kitten does not 
fear drowning. 

Selby. — You make strange comparisons, my dear sir. 

Uncle. — Ay, it is very odd, no one is ever satisfied with my 
comparisons. I gain no more credit than a looking-glass, which 
tells the truth and shows wrinkles. Men and women are like 
turkeys ; because they choose to shut their own eyes, they think 
every one else is blind too . Lovers, more especially, are given 
to this folly — but you might as well talk to a deaf adder {glanc- 
ing at liis niece and Selby, icho are talking, in a low voice, a 
little apart). Ah, they are like the babes in the wood, thinking 
they shall always find berries to eat, and a robin red-breast to 
make their bed. Yes, yes ; there they are, fond and foolish like 
turtle doves ; let them be man and wife, and then see if they 
.don't turn out cat and dog like other married couples. 

Selby. — "What did you say about cat and dog, sir? 

Uncle. — Only a slight remark, a sort of a comparison. But it 
is very odd, nobody ever likes my comparisons ! 

Xiece. — Much more odd if they did, uncle. 

Uncle. — Hold your tongue, child. Women, like geese, are 
always cackling; and lovers, like ganders, encourage their noise, 
comparisons are — [Exit Uncle. 

!Niece and Selby {together). — Yes, comparisons are — 

[Exeunt. 
CURTAIN. 



34 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 

By Bob OTjink. 



CHARACTERS, 
Howard Delancy 



[ Dramatic Authors. 



SCENE. — A sitting room. Table, chairs, writing materials 
upon the table. 

Delancy, discovered sitting at table. 

Delancy (writes). — Let no man be held responsible for my* 

death I quit this life by my own hand because I choose 

to do so I give and bequeath. . . all my debts to my land- 
lord with the distinct understanding that he shall 

make no bad use of them. " (speaks) I think that's about all 

that is needed. Oh ! Anna! Anna ! "When you hear of my 
death, you will at least confess that I was worthy of you, and 
your inconstancy will overwhelm you with remorse ! I wonder 
if I have omitted anything in this my last will and testameDt 

No, I think not ; Oh ; yes — 

Miter Mellon. 

Mellon (soliloquising). — As Shakespeare says, Life is a voy- 
age ; we travellers pay a high price, and get little in return. It 
is not surprising that so many seek in the cold waves a cheaper, 
damper and more peaceful fate. 

Delancy (writing). — "I further bequeath to my landlord the 
balance of my year's subscription to the weekly Sun" — well, 
that's not much, for the time runs out next week — 

Mellon. — Hello! Is that you, Delancy? what are you about? 
Be-writing the seventh act of our new play the "Bandit of 
Black Band " ? 

Delancy. — "What: doing theatrical work? No indeed! "What 
made you fancy that ? No — I am making my Will. 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 35 

Mellon. — Ah ! I see yon stick to our proposition, 

Delancy. — Certainly. We arranged for to-night — you don't 
mean to say that you are going to back out. 

Mellon. — I? why, no ! 

Delancy. — I don't see very well how you could. You were 
certainly in dead earnest about it. 

Mellon. — And so I am still, (aside) Oh ! Maria ! this is thy 
work ! 

Delancy. — Where have you been? 

Mellon. — In my bedroom; I have jnst had a little nap. 

Delancy. — Asleep! What heroism ! 

Mellon. — Why not? One has to do something to pass the 
weary hours. 

Delancy. — Ah, well! We two unfortunates, authors in part- 
nership, hissed in partnership at the Star, the Lyceum, and every 
where else, — there is nothing left for us but to die in partnership. 

Mellon. — True, my poor partner ! It seems as though there 
were a horrible plot to dash our hopes and aspirations to the 
ground. Tbey hissed us ! The miscreants ! At the Star our 
magnificent " Bandit of the Black Band" shared the same fate 
that has befallen many a worse drama. 

Delancy. — And all the pains we took to imitate and even 
surpass Shakespeare himself! 

Mellon. — Shakespeare ! "What do the public care for Shakes- 
peare now — Pshaw! they want new styles — modern trash! litera- 
ture in its infant puling stage — 

Delancy. — Did you notice ? up in the gallery. . . 

Mellon. — That fat lunkhead who was crowing like a sick 
rooster ? 

Delancy. — Yes, he, for one — and that holy terror of a boy 
who was barking — 

Mellon. — Disgraceful! And when the audience called for 
the Authors — the wretch who shouted out "Let them put their 
heads in soak, and give us a rest ! " And in the grand recog- 
nition scene — the whelp that called out "Why don't you kiss 
her ? Oh ! Ain't he bashful ! " 

Delancy. — Can we survive such treatment? !N"o! We will 
die first ! 



36 ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 

Mellon.— Yes— we will die! This night shall be the end of 
our last day. To-morrow, the daily papers will say — " Two dra- 
matic Authors of acknowledged merit/' — why could'nt they say 
so when we were alive? — "two brilliant dramatists, unable to 
bear the failure of one of their joint dramas, have voluntarily 
joined the great majority. We have sent three reporters to as- 
certain the details ; — full particulars in our next, with diagram of 
the premises/' 

Delancy. — Alas! Yes! That was our compact. The die is 
cast — we'll cast our lots to die ! (pause). Yes, my dear partner. 
Life partner hitherto — sleeping partner a while ago, and at last, 
death-partner. But, how? Ah! happy thought. You remem- 
ber the six-barrel revolver we bought for protection against 
house-breakers?. . . . 

Mellon. — House-breakers! — much they'd find to rob here! 
Ha ! Ha! ! — all-right, old fellow — proceed. 

Delancy. — Yes, — first-rate pistol, you know — more barrels 
than we need. 

Mellon. — To be sure ; two will be enough. But how can we 
arrange it with only one weapon ? 

Delancy. — Simple enough ! I take the pistol and kill you. 
Then, you take the pistol and kill me. 

Mellon. — That's all very well. But if you kill me first, how 
can I kill you afterwards ? 

Delancy. — TTell, well ! (reflectively) hm ! — I did'nt think of 
that. 

Mellon. — I tell you what — I'll kill you first, and then you 
Mil me ; — that seems to me a much better plan. 

Delancy. — Do you think so? (excitedly) Oh — what's the use 
of bothering about it now ! we can settle all these trifling details 
when the time comes. Then we will devise some means which 
will give us equal chances. 

Mellon. — Why, of course. Ah, by the way. we must have 
some supper before we leave. 

Delancy. — That's a fact! It would never do to die hungry. 

Mellon. — Certainly not! Suppose you go and get a nice 
funeral repast for us both ; of course I mean, bring it here. I 
don't want my supper by proxy. 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 37 

Delancy. — Have you got any money ? 

Mellon. — Oh! ISever mind money, tell the restaurant man 
you will pay when you take the plates back, to-morrow morning. 

Delancy. — What ! when I'm dead? 

Mellon. — So much the better, that will be part of your 
legacy to your landlord. Spread yourself on the supper, my 
dear fellow — never mind the expense. We are not dying every 
day, you know. 

Delancy. — That's so— all right, I'm off— [Exit Delancy. 

Mellon. — Oh! If Delancy only knew how much the incon- 
stancy of my Maria had to do with my resolution to die ! Faith- 
less Maria! She swore to me that she loved me — me only! but 
she never would see me unless her mother was with her ; — de- 
clared she never went any where without her — and only yester- 
day I saw her at Maillard's with a handsome young fellow — 
almost hugging him — and no mother there. Think of that! and 
just listen to her last letter, (takes letter from his pocket and 
reads) "Darling Mark" — (speaks) Mark that now! — (reads) 
u Everybody is on the tip-toe of expectation to see the * Bandit of 
the Black Band'; nothing else is talked of anywhere. You are 
so talented, — what ever possessed you to have such a stupid 
partner!" — (speaks) 1 did'nt shew Delancy this letter — it is not 
always good policy to tell everybody the truth. But, between 
ourselves, the failure of the piece is mainly his fault. Fancy in- 
troducing in one piece seven thrilling recognition scenes ! Fact ! 
I overheard a man in the theatre, at the fourth scene, remarking 
to his companion — M One would think the author came from the 
back-woods, where there's only one man to the square mile ! " 
(resumes reading letter) "Postscript! Whatever you do, don't 
forget the new hat you promised me. I will give my old one to 
my mother." (speaks) She's a good girl anyhow, she thinks of 
her mother, (reads) " Till death, your own Maria." 
(crushes letter angrily) "What assurance! What everlasting — 
Ah! here comes Delancy — (tragically) I must dissemble! 
Enter Delancy, icith basket. 

Delancy. — Back again — haven't I been quick ? 

Mellon. — You have, (dramatically) ' Tis well ! 

Delancy. — I hope you will find everything satisfactory. 



38 ALMOST A TBAGEDY. 

Come, help me unload the basket. Our last meal — poor fellow !. 
Here, take this pumpkin pie — (Mellon places the articles on the 
table as Delancy hands them to him). Here's a roast goose! 

Mellon {takes it). — Reminds me of our poor piece — how they 
hissed ! 

Delancy. — Potatoes, — figs — cheese — bread — coffee — and a 
pint bottle of Chartreuse with which to drink to each other's 
health — JS"o — I mean — demise. 

Mellon. — 17ow that's what I call a supper -you've done 
splendidly. 

Delancy. — "Wait a moment, I'll put the coffee-pot on the stove 
in my room, to keep it hot — [Exit icith coffee-pot. 

Mellon. — A first rate supper — that will give us strength for 
what is to follow — {sadly) Oh, dear ! it seems too hard — in the full 
vigor of one's life — Oh, it's — 

Enter Delancy quickly. 

Delancy. — Every thing is ready— now let's sit down. First, 
just a nip of the Chartreuse — {pours it out, both drink) Ah ! that's 
good — N"ow for the goose {carves and helps it, SfC.) 

Mellon. — And to think that — to-morrow — 

Delancy. — Oh! stop that — time enough after supper {hands 
him plate), help yourself to potatoes, {sings) 

" We'll drown it in the flowing bowl " 
We'll— 

Mellon. — Oh — how can you sing at a funeral meal? 
Delancy. — Tis the dying note of the moribund swan ! .{sings} 
So drink to me only with thine eyes 
And I will pledge — 

Mellon. — Oh! hush — you drive one frantic — Come, fill my 
glass once more — that is, if you've left me any. Thanks. 

Delancy. — Lend me — 

Mellon. — Lend you anything, except money. 

Delancy. — Lend me your ears, and pay attention to me. 
Our last moments should be sacred, and no secrets from one 
another. You must know, then, that I have a sweetheart who 
has frightfully deceived me. In fact that has fully as much to 
do with my determination to die, as our failure in the theatre. 
Fill up my glass again — Thanks. Here's to my false Anna! 
{drinks) Anna — who never goes any where without her mother— 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 39 

Mellon (aside). — Curious — nor does Maria. 

Delano y. — Well ! the other evening, at Maillard's — who should 
come in but — Anna — no mother with her then — Oh, no ! only a 
fine looking young fellow — 

Mellon. — I pity you, my dear fellow ; but, by a curious co- 
incidence, I love a little girl — who played exactly the same trick 
on me, — (drinks) here's to faithless Maria ! And, just as you 
say, she is the principal cause of my deciding to die — to leave a 
world which is full of failure and perfidy. Give me a little bit 
more goose, for pure revenge. 

Delancy. — Indeed I am sorry for you — But, look here — (takes 
letter from pocket) here's a letter I got from Anna a few days 
ago. (reads) "My own Howard, — Please get me two front 
seats for the opening night of your new piece. You are so tal- 
ented — why was it necessary to have any aid from " — (stops) 

Mellon. — Proceed. 

Delancy. — No, I cannot — 

Mellon. — Between partners ? 

Delancy. — Well, if you insist — (reads) u aid from such a per- 
fect simpleton as — 

Mellon (aside). — Yery strange — the same idea. — 

Delancy. — u As your dramatic partner. Whatever you do, 
don't forget my new hat." 

Mellon. — What a craze the girls seem to have for new hats! 

Delancy. — Alas, my poor friend! What is there in life worth 
living for? 

Mellon.— Nothing. 

Delancy. — Love is an ignis fatuus — 

Mellon. — A snare. 

Delancy. — We are a very Siamese twins in misfortune. 

Mellon. — A dreary reflection, but too true. Hissed by the 
public — deceived by our only loves — (pause) 

Delancy (dreamily). — This Chartreuse is delicious. 

Mellon (smacks lips). — Ah ! fine ! 

Delancy (rousing up). — Mellon — my boy — now let us make 
our arrangements. 

Mellon. — What's your hurry? There's plenty of time. (A 
thundering knock is heard at the door. Both spring up.) 



40 ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 

Both {dramatically)— Ha ! "What's that? What ho, there ! 

Delancy. — That sounds like our Landlord's knock — Our rent! 
Ha ! Happy thought ! {claps Mellon on hack) we'll tell him 
we will pay him to-morrow. — 

Mellon {laughs). — Ha! Ha! Good! — that will be the last 
installment of your legacy to him. But look ! A letter slipped 
under the door — 

Delancy. — So there is. "What can it be ? Let's see. {picks 
up letter) Ah ! Grand Opera House on the envelope. 

Mellon. — That's where we offered our new fairy drama in 
sixty-seven scenes. Kead it ! Oh ! be quick ! 

Delancy {opens letter). — From the Manager, {reads) "Dear 
Sirs, I have the pleasure of announcing to you that your fairy 
drama has been accepted " — . 

Mellon.— Accepted ! 

Delancy. — Saved ! {reads) ''upon the sole condition, how- 
ever, that the authors will have " — {speaks) Eh? What's this? 
— {reads slowly) "will have to pay all expense of costumes, 
scenery, and salaries" — {amazed, droj)s the letter). 

Mellon {astounded). — Is — nothing said — about the rent of 
the theatre? (Both drop into their seats at table.) 

Delancy {sepulchrally). — Give me some cheese, {takes a 
piece) No ! My emotions choke me. Oh ! Anna ! Anna ! for 
thee I die ! 

Mellon. — Oh ! Faithless Maria ! {pause) 

Delancy {mournfully). — Come, let us toss up. 

Mellon.— Toss up ? "What for ? 

Delancy. — To decide which of us two — 

Mellon. — Oh! There's time enough, (groans, pause, starts 
up) Ha ! our coffee ! I cannot die without my coffee. 

Delancy {starts). — Forgot all about it. I'll fetch it. 

[Exit Delancy. 

Mellon. — To die ! the very thought sends a cold chill through 
me. Oh! If Delancy would break his neck — scald himself— 
anything to lay him up for a month. — But no, the fates are re- 
lentless—he returns. 

Enter Delancy. 

Delancy {cheerily). — Here we are! Fragrant and piping >hot ! 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 41 

Mellon. — Pour it out (takes cup). Thanks. 

Delancy. — Mellon ! Mark ! Brother ! {clock strikes twelve) 
List ! The hour is come. 

Mellon. — That's the clock upstairs — it is always half an hour 
ahead of time. 

Delancy. — Mellon, the eyes of all posterity are upou us. 

Mellon. — Posterity is pretty well all asleep by this time. 

Delancy. — Never mind. Let us settle all the preliminaries, 
so that I can at least enjoy my coffee with a tranquil mind. 

Mellon. — I have not a single coin left to toss with. Have 
you ? {aside) I bet he has borrowed a cent on purpose {aloud). 
Howard ! are you actually serious ? 

Delancy (takes coin out of pocket. Tosses a cent) holds it 
flat between Ms palms). — Head or tail? 

Mellon. — How you are rushing things ! 

Delancy. — If you call " heads " and it is tail, it will be for 
me to — 

Mellon. — And yourself afterwards ? 

Delancy. — Why of course. But if you call * ■ tails ' ' — 
'Mellon. — Oh, you confuse me entirely — "Well — heads! 

Delancy {aghast). — Heads it is ! 

Mellon. — My poor friend ! So I shall have to — 

Delancy. — Ah — yes — but there's plenty of time. 

Mellon {picks up pistol). — Oh! insignificant but potent toy! 

thou passive arbiter of destiny — come — let me clutch thee ! — 

Delancy. — Take care! it's loaded — it might go off — don't 
point it this way. (drops on hands and knees.) 

Mellon. — Come — finish your coffee. 

Delancy. — What a hurry you are in ! Are you absolutely 
and irretrievably resolved? 

Mellon. — What? After Maria's treason ! 

Delancy. — Oh ! Anna ! and you too ! 

Mellon. — Eeady? {raises pistol.) 

Delancy {dodges behind table). — One moment ! There's some 
Chartreuse left — we must finish the Chartreuse — {pours it into the 
glasses, drinks with trembling hand) Ah ! that's good — 

Mellon {drinks). — Yes — excellent. Are you ready, at last? 

Delancy {desperately). — What must be, must; I suppose — 



42 ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 

but {walks up to Mellon, turns pistol aside) this is all very fine 
for you — how do I know that after you have — {points to himself) 
you will {points to Mellon.)? 

Mellon. — Rely upon my untarnished honor ! 

Delancy. — But, my dear fellow, it cuts me to the very heart 
that I may possibly leave you in this world of misery and blight 
— oh — that would be too sad for you. — Why can we not take .the 
final plunge together, hand in hand ? 

Mellon. — You need not worry yourself about me — 

Delancy. — Well — let's finish — let me at least assume a digni- 
fied pose {poses extravagantly). 

Mellon. — Oh — not that way — like a stuffed monkey — 

Delancy. — I am ready — no — stay — let me turn my back to 
you. I cannot be an eye witness to your crime — {a terrific hick 
is heard at the door. Delancy springs in the air, falls flat) I'm 
dead! 

Mellon. — Get up ! you're crazy — that was only a knock at the 
door. 

Delancy {gets up, feels himself all over).— Eh? "What? a — 
knock at — the door ! are you dead sure I'm not dead ? 

Mellon (laughs). — Sure enough — see — there's another letter 
under the door. 

Delancy. — A letter ! Quick — 

Mellon {picks up letter; reads). — "Glorious news! I have 
just succeeded in getting your "Follies of a Mght " accepted by 
the "Bijou" and — 

Delancy {reading over Mellon's shoulder). — But — the letter 
is from Anna ! I know her writing. 

Mellon. — Nothing of the sort — it's from Maria ! 

Delancy. — I tell you that's Anna's writing ! I know -it — she 
always spells accepted with an " x " — 

Mellon. — I know Maria's writing excellently well — her own 
ecstatic, extravagant, eccentric way of spelling, extraordinarily 
expressed. 

Delancy. — She's both ! see — she has signed the letter Anna 
Maria ! — Oh ! Anna ! 

Mellon.— Oh ! Maria ! 

Both (tragically). — Anna Maria ! 



ALMOST A TRAGEDY. 43 

Delancy.— There's one thing plain enongh, she gave we the 
better half of her name. By prior right, she's mine ! 

Mellon. — Yes, till she saw me, and certainly threw yon 
over for me. Better half of her name ! You're welcome to it, 
but the girl herself shall be my better half, she's mine ! 

Delancy. — Yours ! Pshaw ! You make me laugh (laughs 
satirically). 

Mellon. — Puppy ! Come here and let me kick you ! 

Delancy. — Avaunt! Our partnership is dissolved — Kivals, 
rivals to the bitter end. Now ! Murder me if you dare ! 
(snatches pistol from Mellon) thus I disarm you (snaps the 
trigger six times) confusion — insult on injury— it was not loaded 
— and you have dared to play me such a trick- 

Mellon. — Come, now— moderate your fury. Partners we have 
been — partners we remain. Our joint deceiver— Anna Maria — 
can deceive us both only once. Scorn her and let her go — 

Delance. — Agreed; — life-partners henceforth — but no more 
death-partnerships — 

Mellon.— No — Life is still worth living — (turns to audience) 
even if you hiss us — 

Delancy (to audience). — 

We hope for hissing us you find no cause — 
At least encourage us with your applause. 
We've done our best, it might have been much worse. 
Kind friends I We've dared before you to rehearse 
Our last new farce, (to Mellon) It's name ! What shall it be ? 
Mellon. — Just what it is — 

"Almost a Tragedy. " 

CUE TAIN. 



44 



LOYE'S LABOR NOT LOST. 

By H. Elliott McBride. 



CHARACTERS. 

Tom Jones, A Bootblack. 
Dave Kay, A Newsboy. 
Mrs. !Nora Mecaffery. 



SCENE. — A room scantily furnished. Tom discovered. 

Tom. — Well, I am of the opinion that we are in straightened 
circumstances. I have but ten cents and there is'nt a bite of 
bread in the house. It may be that Dave has made more money 
than I have to-day; if he has'nt we shall not have enough money 
to buy a respectable supper. I am a bootblack and Dave is a 
newsboy, and I am now inclined to think that selling papers 
is a better business than blacking boots. Then the question 
arises, had'nt I better stop blacking boots, and go to selling 
papers ? Dave is'nt a bit mean or stingy, and he says it is all 
right ; he says we have formed a co-partnership and he is'nt go- 
ing to try to break up that partnership merely because he 
makes a few more pennies in a day than I do. Dave is a noble 
fellow. These are hard times for me. People now go with their 
boots unblacked or black them themselves. I'm sure it would 
be a great help to me if the rich men would allow me to black 
their boots, and they would never miss the small amount paid 
out. I am willing to work, but, somehow I can't get enough 
work to do. "We'll have to do something soon to make some 
money, for the rent is due and old Jackson won't wait very 
long. If winter was'nt coming on Dave and I could give up the 
old room and live on the street, but that is'nt to be thought of 
now. I don't want to freeze and so we had better try and keep 
the room. 

Enter Dave, R. 

Dave. — u Home again from a foreign shore." 



LOVE'S LABOR NOT LOST. 45 

Tom. — How did you get along to-day, Dave ? 

Dave. — First rate. I made one dollar and five cents to-day. 

Tom. — A dollar and five cents ! Good ! What made the 
papers sell so well to-day ? 

Dave. — Oh, there's been another murder somewhere out in 
the country. 

Tom. — And everybody wanted to read about it. They were 
so much interested in the murder that they would'nt have their 
boots blacked. 

Dave. — Did'nt you get anything to do? 

Tom. — Yes, I got one very large pair of boots to black. 

Dave. — Only one pair ? 

Tom. — That was all. I tell you, Dave, I must learn to be a 
newsboy too, or we must dissolve. I don't think it right for me 
to share with you when you make a dollar a day and I make 
only a dime. 

Dave. — Pooh ! don't trouble yourself about that, Tom . Don't 
you know you used to make more money than I did ? 

Tom. — !N"ot very often, Dave. 

Dave. — Tom, I won't allow you to speak of such a thing as a 
dissolution of partnership. I could'nt get along without you. 
We have messed together now for nearly two years and I don't 
want to keep house unless you stay with me. 

Tom. — I'd like to stay, but I think it is'nt quite right when 
you are making all the money. But, I'll tell you, Dave, what 
we can do ; you keep your money and I'll keep mine. 

Dave. — !N*o sir! "WTien we entered into our co-partnership the 
agreement was that we should throw our money all into the 
same purse, and out of that purse the rent should be paid and 
provisions purchased. That's the agreement. I am not going 
to break with you just because people don't want their boots 
blacked. 

Tom. — Dave, you are an excellent fellow and— 

Dave. — There, Tom, don't say anything more. You may 
make me think I am good enough to run for Congress. But, 
Tom, I have something to tell you. Somebody lost their pocket- 
book to-day. 

Tom. —And did you find it ? 



46 LOVE'S LABOB NOT LOST. 

Dave. — I did. I found it on Washington street as I was com- 
ing home. I put it in my pocket and hav'nt looked at it since. 
(Takes out pocket-booTc.) 

Tom. — Oh, I hope there's a hundred dollars in it. Open it up 
and let us take a look at it. 

Dave (opening pocket-book). — Here's money — plenty of it 
{taking out bank notes) Ten and twenty, thirty, and five and 
five, and ten and goodness ! here's a hundred dollar bill. I be- 
lieve that's the first I ever saw. 

Tom. — Oh ! is'nt this glorious? One hundred and how much? 

Dave. — One hundred, and then ten and twenty make thirty 
and five make thirty-five, and five make forty and ten make fifty. 
One hundred and fifty dollars. 

Tom. — Oh, we can pay the rent now. 

Dave. — Has old Jackson been after the rent? 

Tom. — Yes, he was here to-day. He says it was due a week 
ago. And if it is'nt paid soon he'll kick us out. Let him kick 
us out now, if he wants to ; we can go to a better place. 

Dave. — But, Tom, this money is'nt ours. 

Tom. — Of course it's ours, or rather, I should say it is yours. 
Did'nt you find it ? 

Dave. — Yes, I found it, but I don't know as that makes it 
ours. 

Tom. — Of course it does. It's likely some stingy old fellow 
lost it — somebody that is too stingy to get his boots blacked. He 
will hardly miss it and it will be such a great help to us — to you, 
I mean. 

Dave. — I'm afraid my Sunday school teacher wouldn't ap- 
prove of my keeping it. 

Tom. — Pooh ! who cares for your Sunday school teacher? I 
guess he'd keep it himself if he had it. 

Dave. — Oh, no ; I don't think he would. 

Tom. — Keep it anyhow, Dave, and don't say anything about 
it. You know you need it. You could get into some kind of 
business on that one Hundred and fifty dollars. 

Dave. — I know it would be very nice to have it ; I could start 
a news stand with it and make plenty of money ; but I guess it 
wouldn't be quite right to keep it. (Knock at door.) "Who can 



LOVES LABOR NOT LOST. 47 

that be ? (Puts pocket-book in his pocket, goes to door and opens 
it.) Ah! is it you, Mrs. Mecaffery? Come in. 
Enter Mrs. Mecaffery, L. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — An' how are yez gettin' along, me b'ys? 

Date. — Oh, very well, I made a dollar and five cents to-day. 

Tom.— And I made ten cents (places a chair)— Sit down, Mrs. 
Mecaffery. 

Mrs. Mecaffery (seating herself). — Thin it was a bad day 
for the blacMn' av boots ! 

Tom. — Yes, an awful bad day. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Mr. Jackson was after the rint to-day, 
was'nt he? 

Tom. — Yes, he says it is due and must be paid or he'll kick us 
out. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Oh ! what onfalin' hearts some paple hev 
got. An' kin yez pay the rint ¥ 

Daye. — Xo, we can't unless — 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Onless what, honey? 

Daye. — Mrs. Mecaffery, if you should find some money 
would it be right for you to keep it ? 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Faix, no, honey. Xiver do nothin' but 
what is right. An' jist ax yerself the question is it right to kape 
what is'nt yer own ? Did you find some money ? 

Daye. — Yes, I found a pocket-book to-night containing one 
hundred and fifty dollars. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — An' is there nothin' in it to tell ye whose 
it is? 

Dave (taking out pocket-book). — I can find nothing. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Thin ye must be afther huntin' up the 
owner. Ye had betther put an advertisement in the paper about 
it. Ye would'nt be afther kapin' it I spose' ? 

Tom. — Is'nt it Dave's when he found it? I guess some rich 
man lost it and he does'nt need it half as bad as Dave does. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Ah, me b'y, the findin' av it does'nt make 
it Dave's. A great many paple kape money an' sich things whin 
they find them, but that does'nt make it right. Oh, no, not at 
all. An' w'ud ye be afther kapin' the money ? 

Tom.— Yes, I would keep it if I had found it. 



48 LOVE'S LABOR NOT LOST. 

Dave. — I had almost decided to keep it, but I now think it 
would not be right. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — ISo me b'y, it w'ud not be right. Te hev 
both been good b'ys an' I take an intherist in yez an' I'd fale bad, 
indade, if I should find out that yez was'nt honest. 

Tom. — But the rent is due and how are we going to pay it if 
we don't take the money ? 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Betther let it go unpaid than to take an- 
other person's money to pay it wid. Trust in Providence, me 
b'ys, an' do right, an' He will niver allow yez to stick. 

Tom. — It's all very well to talk, Mrs. Mecaffery, but I don't 
like to see some of the people in this world get all the comforts, 
and others, just as good, get nothing. And I think when a 
pocket-book is taken from a rich man and given to a poor boy, 
the poor boy ought to keep it. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — ^"ot at all — not a bit av it. It has'nt been 
given to a poor b'y ; the poor b'y just found it. Do right, me 
b'y, that's the way to do. An' don't fly in the face av Provi- 
dence an' grumble an' complain about His works. If He makes 
some poor an' some rich, it is right, an' ye should'nt find fault. 
But, me b'ys, I'm not goin' to let yez stick. I hev a little 
money an' yez shill hev some to pay yer rint. 

Dave. — 0, Mrs. Mecaffery, we can't take any more of your 
money. Tou have helped us already. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Tis, an' I can help yez again, (takes out 
money) Tis, ye must take it. I will lind it to yez to pay the 
rint an' yez can pay it back to me afther awhile. Find the 
owner of the pocket-book an' take it back to him an' my word 
for it, ye'll fale betther than ye w'ud if ye'd kape it. 

Dave. — Yes, I'll return the pocket-book ; I am determined to 
do that. And we will accept of your money too, as a loan. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — That's right, (hands the money to Dave.) 
Te're sinsible b'ys an' I hope ye'll rise in the world. ^Vnen 
will ould Mr. Jackson be back for the rint ? 

Tom. — He said he would be here again in two days. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — All right ; yez can pay it now. (rises) An', 
me b'ys always do right an' thin yez can ask God to bless yez. 
Good night. 



LOVE'S LABOR NOT LOST. 49 

Dave and Tom. — Good night. [Exit Mrs. Mecaffery L. 

Date. — What do you think abont keeping the pocket-book 
now, Tom? 

Tom. — I gness Mrs. Mecaffery is about right. But when 
people get into tight places they don't stop long to consider what 
is right and what is wrong. Or rather, I might say, when people 
are worried and troubled about money matters they do that 
which they would not think of doing at other times. I suppose 
I would not have thought of keeping the money if this awful 
rent had not been troubling me. I did not want to have to go 
out and lodge in the streets now that the nights are getting so 
cold. 

Dave. — Mrs. Mecaffery has helped us oat of that difficulty. 
She must have a good deal of money. 

Tom.— Yes, I suppose she has. And when we get a little 
older and get into business we will be very ungrateful if we do 
not remember her for all her kindness to us. 

Dave. — Ah, we must remember Mrs. Mecaffery and take care 
of her in her old days. She has been our best friend. 

[Exeunt R. 

SCE^E II.— Mrs. Mecaffery seated. 
Mrs. Mecaffery. — Oh, this is nothin' but a world av trial an' 
trouble an' sickness an' pain. Whin our money is gone our 
frinds lave us an' go out an' look fur somebody else to stale from. 
Shure now, an' I w'ud hev been purty well off in this world if I 
had'nt lint me money to Dennis Eafferty, an', he said he c'ud 
make the money double itself in a very short time. But the 
money is all lost an' Dennis is 'as poor as mesilf. An' now I 
s'pose I'll hev to go to the poor house an' be knocked around in 
me ould days. Och, now, an' it is hard fur me to go there whin I 
had been savin' up a little money all me life jist to be sure that I 
w'ud'nt come to want. I ought niver to hev lit Dennis hev the 
money — I ought to hev hild on to it. But it's gone an' I ain't 
able to make ony more. This rheumatism that I hev kapes me 
from movin' about or ilse I'd be up an' a thryin' to do somethm' 
(knock at door) Who can that be? I guess it's the landlord 
after the Tint. Well I can't pay it an' I suppose I must go out 



50 LOVE'S LABOB NOT LOST. 

av the house. Come in. {Enter Dave and Tom. 

Dave. — I suppose you know us, Mrs. Mecaffery? {goes up to 
her and extends his hand.) 

Mrs. Mecaffery (shaking his hand). — "Well if it is'nt Davy 
an' Tom. How do yez do b'ys ? 

Tom (talcing her hand). — ¥e are well and doing well. "We 
have remembered your kind instructions. 

Dave. — But you are not welL Axe you troubled with rheu- 
matism again? 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Yis, yis, it is throublin' me considerable, 
but there is somethin' that is throublin' me more than that. 

Tom. — And what is that, Mrs. Mecaffery? 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Sure, an' I've lost me money. It was'nt 
a very great amount, but thin it was enough to live on. I lint it 
to Dennis Kafferty an' he said he could make it double itsilf in a 
short time, an' I gave it to him ; an' now I suppose I will have to 
go to the poor house. 

Dave. — You shall never go there, Mrs. Mecaffery. 

Tom. — Never ! 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — But how shill I kape from goin' whin me 
money is all gone an' I have nothin' to live on ? I hain't got no 
relations to go to, an' I will hev to lave here soon fur I can't pay 
the rint. 

Dave. — If you have no relations you have friends. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Niver a friend. There was the Boley 
family an' I thought that they'd be my friends, but as soon as 
my money wint they whit too. 

Dave. — Mrs. Mecaffery, Tom and I have got good positions 
now and we owe it all to you. We are making some money and 
while we have money you shall never go to the poor house. "We 
will keep you. 

Tom. — Yes, Mrs. Mecaffery, that's so. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Sure, now, an' that's nonsinse yez are 
talkin'. Have'nt yez enough to do to kape yersilves ? 

Tom. — We can keep you, Mrs. Mecaffery. We have got good 
places and are making plenty of money. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Well, jez must be makin' money far yez 
are purty well dhressed. 



LOVE'S LABOR NOT LOST. 51 

Dave. — And we owe it all to you. It was you who got our 
places for us. 

Mrs. Mecaffery.— Sure, now, an' yez were always truthful 
b'ys, but yez must be misthaken about that. Whin did I iver go 
out to hunt a place fur yez ? 

Date.— You remember the pocket-book I found? 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Yis. An' ye took it to the owner? 

Dave. — Yes ; but we would have kept it if you had not talked 
to us about the matter and counseled us to return it. We did 
so, and the owner wished us to take fifty dollars as a reward for 
our honesty. "We refused to do so, but told him we would like 
to get into some kind of business at which we could make more 
than in blacking boots and selling papers. He immediately 
gave me a place in his store and found a situation for Tom. We 
have been in our new places for two months and like them very 
well. We would have come to see you long ago if we had 
known you were in trouble. But you must leave this place 
now. We will find a better home for you. Won't we Tom? 

Tom. — Indeed, we will. Mrs. Mecaffery, as long as we have 
any money you shall not want for anything. 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Oh, me b'ys, how can I thank yezl 

Dave. — Eather should we ask, how can we thank you ? You 
were the means of securing our situations for us. 

Tom. — And we would be very ungrateful if we did not en- 
deavor to return the kindness. (Tom stands at one side of Mrs. 
Mecaffery and Dave at the other.) 

Mrs. Mecaffery. — Ye are noble bys — excellent b'ys, an' 
may Grod bless ye fur yer kindness to me. 

Dave. — Not another word, Mrs. Mecaffery; you planted the 
seed, and the harvest should be yours — You have fairly proved 
that — 

Tom.— "Love's labor is not always lost" 

CUE TAIN. 



52 



WMTED-A NURSE. 

By Gtjstav Kobbe. 



CHARACTERS. 
Agnes Daingerfield, in plain house dress. 
Fanny Thompson, in walking dress. 
John Thompson, an Englishman, Iter husband. 
A Maid. 
A Policeman. 



SCENE. — Cosily but not expensively furnished parlor in the top 
story of a flat-house in New York. To the left a portion of 
an adjoining smaller room is seen through portieres. A door 
in the background leads into the hall. There must be a sofa, 
a centre table and a chair, the sofa being in the foreground, 
and the chair near it. 

Agnes {on sofa, engaged in some feminine handiwork. Her 
glance falls on a newspaper beside her. Something in it seems 
to attract her attention, Drops her work and takes up the news- 
paper). — What's this? "Alone with a madman!" That's a 
startling heading, {reading from paper) "While Mrs. Spencer, 
of 1402 Arch street, Philadelphia, was sitting in her parlor yes- 
terday afternoon a ring at the door bell was heard. The servant, 
on opening the door, saw a well dressed man, who asked for Mrs. 
Spencer. Thinking him a friend of the house, the maid showed 
him into the parlor. Mrs. Spencer's surprise may be imagined 
when she saw a total stranger. But her surprise gave way to 
alarm when he approached her and asked, ' How soon will you be 
ready to go with me?' for something in the man's looks and 
manners led her to conclude that he was mentally unsound — an 
impression which was confirmed when he proceeded to ask her a 
number of peculiar questions. With great presence of mind, 
Mrs. Spencer answered these questions calmly, and when ho 
finally repeated his first question, 'How soon will you be ready 



WANTED— A NURSE. 53 

to go with me?' replied, 'Eight away, sir.' Leaving the parlor 
with him, she opened the front door. "When they were outside 
she hastily retreated back through the door, which she had left 
ajar, and slammed it in the madman's face. After ringing the 
bell furiously awhile he left. Mrs. Spencer says he was tall, of 
dark complexion, good looking, well dressed, and spoke with an 
Engish acceut. A mau answering Mrs. Spencer's descriptor d of 
the intruder was seen in the afternoon in the Pennsylvania Rail- 
road depot, and the police think he took the train for New York. 
The New York police have been notified, and are on the look- 
out/' That's a pleasant experience. But perhaps it's only a 
newspaper story (throws down the newspaper and resumes her 
work). Dear me, it's nearly three o'clock, and no nurse has 
come yet. I'm sure the advertisement read they were to call 
from 11 to 3. It was clear enough. "Competent Infant's 
Nurse. Apply from 11 to 3, at 109 East Forty-ninth Street, top 
flat." I suppose they object to the top flat. Servants are so par- 
ticular nowadays. There! I never asked Alfred if he'd had the 
advertisement put in the paper. It would be just like him to 
have forgotten it, and wheu I ask him about it, to make the old 
excuse — too many things of more importance to remember. 
Seems to me if a wife wants any little matter attended to down- 
town, she'd better ask some one else's husband to attend to it for 
her. Why only this morning I found in Alfred's coat pocket the 
letter to Fanny Lawrence — Fanny Thompson I suppose I must 
call her, now she's married — I gave him to post three days ago, 
"What must Fanny think of me? Only just returned from 
England, after five years' absence, married there since I saw her 
last, writes to me to ask when she can come and have a good 
old-fashioned talk with me and compare notes about the babies, 
and doesn't hear from me for three days ! So I have to scratch 
a note to her asking her to come up this afternoon after three 
o'clock, and explaining why she hadn't heard from me before, 
and send it by a messenger, (after a short pause.) "Well, how 
time does go around! "When Fanny and I last saw each other 
neither of us were married, and now we're making appointments 
to meet and compare notes on our babies. To think, too, that 
Fanny should have married an Englishman ; she who was the 



54 WANTED— A NURSE. 

most American girl in onr set, and always took special delight in 
snubbing Anglornaniacs. How well I remember the way she 
took down that young Strong after he came back from London, 
with English clothes and an English accent, when he told her 
{with a broad English pronunciation), I've been to England er- 
er-er to finish my education, you know, because-er you can't get- 
er a finished education in this country, you know." *'Ah I 
see ! " exclaimed Fanny. * ' You went over to England a calf. . 
and returned bceuf k la mode ! " (bell rings) The bell ! That 
must be a nurse, or perhaps it's some one to look at the flat. 
(to maid, as she passes the hall door) Alary ! 
Enter Maid. 

Maid. — Yes'm. 

Agnes.— Look over the baluster, Mary, and see if a woman's 
coming up. [Exit Maid, and re-enter after moment. 

Maid. — It's a gentleman, mum, as is coming up. 

Agnes. — A gentleman ! Some one to see the flat, surely. 
How nice ! Perhaps we'll succeed in letting it for the summer, 
after all. Show him in here, Mary. 

[Exit to side room. Exit Maid. After a short pause Mr. 
Thompson is shown into the parlor by the Maid. 

"Maid. — Please be seated, sir; the lady will be in directly. 

[Exit. 

Thompson (who has seated himself on the sofa, speaks with 
a strong English accent). — TThat a curious country this is, by 
Jove ! They can't seem to call things by their right names here. 
"The lady will be here directly." I didn't climb up five flights 
of stairs to see a lady. I want to see a nurse. But men and 
women who in England would only be servants seem to considei 
themselves gentlemen and ladies here. I've only just been to a 
house where the girl who opened the door told me, when I said 
I'd come to see the nurse ^vho advertised from there : u The 
lady'll be up in a moment. She's in the kitchen ironing the 
baby's wash." TThat a beastly thing it is anyhow for a man to 
go about looking for a nurse ! I can't fancy such goings on in 
and. But nobody seems to think it out of the way here. 
Fanny just says to me: "Xow, John, you'll have to go the 
rounds to-day. I'm sure to hear from Mrs. Daingerfield this 






WANTED— A NUBSE. 55 

morning — it's three days since I wrote her — and she may appoint 
this afternoon. I wouldn't run the ri3k of not seeing her for any- 
thing. Ton know our nurse leaves us next week. '' Wants to 
leave us, when she's only been with is since we landed. Fan- 
ny's mother engaged her for us. Likes the place, but doesn't 
care to go to the sea-shore for the summer. Prefers the moun- 
tains ? So do we — only we can't go there. The nurses in this 
country seem to have the pick of the summer resorts. Let me 
see (pulling a newspaper out of his p>ocket). This is the right 
place, is'nt it? I don't want to go wrong the way I did this 
morning when I mistook the number of a house, and the people 
looked at me as though they thought I was a suspicious charac- 
ter. (Scans newspaper.) Yes, this is right. (Reads.) Compe- 
tent Infant's $urse. Apply from eleven to three at 109 East 
Forty-ninth Street, top flat." And it's under "Situations 
"Wanted." Well, I only hope I'll find a girl who looks as if she 
might do, after climbing up five flights of stairs. It's like ascend- 
ing the steeple of the Cologne cathedral to get to these flats. An 
Englishman's house is his castle ; an American's flat is his tower. 
Ah ! here comes the nurse. 
(Enter Agnes through portieres. On seeing a stranger she ad- 
vances somewhat hesitatingly as far as table, where she stops 
ivith an embarrassed look.) 
Thompson (aside). — A very clever, neat looking girL I think 
she'll suit. A little too genteel-looking for hard work, perhaps 
(to Agnes). "Well, my good girl, I think you'll suit. Have you 
any references ? How soon will you be ready to go with me ? 
(Agnes is at first surprised. But ivith Thompson's last ques- 
tion her expression changed to alarm. SJie involuntarily 
glances at the newspaper she has been reading.) 
Agnes (aside, excitedly and rapidly). — Good heavens ! Tall ! 
well-dressed! with an English accent? Pennsylvania Kailroad 
Depot ! Evening train to New York ! It all tallies. It's he, 
the madman ! And I alone ! "What shall I do ? (calmer) I will 
try to copy Mrs. Spencer. (As if suddenly struck ivith an idea, 
and with an assumed sang-froid. ) I'll call a policeman over the 
messenger service, and try to keep him (looks toward Thompson) 
quiet till the policeman comes. (Moves to the mantle-piece and 



56 WANTED— A NURSE. 

signals thrice. To Thompson. ) Pm ready to go with you any 
time, sir. 

Thompson (aside). — She seems to be very much excited about 
changing places. (To Agnes.) Have you been long in this 
place, my good girl ? 

Agnes. — Ever since Alfred and I were married, a year and a 
half ago. 

Thompson. — What, married? Did I understand you to say 
you were married? We don't want a coachman, so we can't 
engage your husband too. 

Agnes. — Alfred a coachman ! (recollecting herself). Er— no ; 
that is, I didn't mean I was married. I meant ever since my 
brother Alfred was married, a year and a half ago. 

Thompson. — Ah, I see. I don't object, anyhow, to servants 
having husbands if they live out in separate places. A husband 
is less obectionable than a lover. He doesn't come to see her so 
often. (Agnes sea ts herself.) Cool, but American, I suppose 
(reflecting). Fanny's very particular about the nurse's taking a 
bath once a week. 

Agnes. — If that policeman only would come. 

Thompson (after some hemming and hawing). — I must insist 
on your taking a bath— 

Agnes (with an alarmed start). — Now? 

Thompson. — Once a week at least. I suppose you're accus- 
tomed to that ? 

Agnes. — Only once a week? Why, every morning. 

Thompson (aside). — She's cleaner than I thought she was 
(to Agnes). I see you haven't a cap on. My wife likes the 
nurse to wear caps. Do you object? 

Agnes. — Oh, no. Alfred thinks they're very becoming to me. 

Thompson (aside). — How fond she seems of that brother. I 
hope they're not too becoming. I don't like nurses to look too 
pretty. The policemen stop and talk to them (to Agnes). 
What has been your experience with babies ? 

Agnes (forgetting herself enthusiastically). — It's been too 
lovely for anything. Our little Alfred's just as cunning as can 
be. Says papa, mamma ; and as for gee-gees, he has them on 
the brain. 



WAXTEB—A 2TUB8M. 57 

Thompson. — Good heavens ! My good girl, I hope they're not 
catching? 

Agnes.— Catching? "What's catching? 

Thompson. — The gee-gees. You said the baby yon are taking 
care of had them on the brain. 

Agnes (recollecting herself).— Oh I I see; gee-gees is baby- 
talk for horse. 

Thompson (relieved). — Ah ! Ton seem to love the child. 

Agnes (enthusiastically). — Love him ! My own flesh and 
blood ! Alfred's and my dear little baby ! Our first little treas- 
ure ! I adore him. 

Thompson. — Dear me ! dear me ! I thonght yon said you were 
not married. 

Agnes {confused). — Xo ; that is — er — no, sir, I'm not married. 

Thompson. — Xot married, and you have a little treasure ? 

Agnes. — I was just repeating what missus calls him. 

Thompson. — Ah! I see. (aside.) How nervous she is. (to 
Agnes. ) I hope, my good girl, you're a light sleeper ; I hope 
you don't snore ? 

Agnes. — Snore! I snore ! (rises.) Sir, you forget whom you 
are ad — (recollects herself). Oh, no, sir, I don't snore. 

Thompson (aside). — Dear me, how excited she's getting ! Per- 
haps you cau't be as particular with servants in America as you 
can in England. Oh, I recollect now ; Fanny told me I mustn't 
be as abrupt with the servants I saw as I would be in England. 
I think Fanny would like this girl. I suppose I must make a 
good impression, (to Agnes, as he rises.) What is your name, 
my dear girl ? 

Agnes (frightened at Thompson's rising). — Agnes, sir. 

Thompson (advancing toward her). — What a pretty name. 
(child's her under the chin.) 

Agnes (aside). — Good heavens ! he's getting excited. He 
wants to find out the best place to pass his knife over my throat. 

(Thompson advances more familiarly, and tries to chucJ: her 
once more under the chin. Agnes seizes him, and holds his 
arm with the strength of desperation. Thompson in great 
alarm, struggles to free himself. The following is uttered 
at intervale of the brief struggle.) 



58 WANTED— A NUBSE. 

Thompson. —She's mad. I thought some of her answers wild. 
The woman's mad. 

Agnes. — Mary ! Kill the madman before he kills me. Police ! 
police ! (^t crash is being heard, as though the flat door were 
being forced open. Policeman rushes in and seizes Thompson. 
Maid appears at hall door, and looks with amazement on the 
scene. To Policeman.) Hold him fast. Don't let him go. 
He's the madman from Philadelphia. (Grabs the newspaper and % 
shows it to Policeman.) 

Policeman. — Yes, mum. "We've been on the lookout for him. 
Got instructions from headquarters. 

(Tightens his hold on Thompson, who seems completely dazed. 
Meanwhile there have been several rings at the bell, to which 
in the confusion no one has attended. Enter Mrs. Thomp- 
son.) 

Agnes (falls almost into hysterics in Mrs. Thompson's arms). 
—Fanny, Fanny, you might not have found me alive. Such a 
terrible time with a madman ! 

Mrs. Thompson.— A madman ? Where is he ? 

Agnes (pointing to Thompson). — There! 

Mrs. Thompson.— A madman ! Why, that's John. (Buns up 
and embraces him as if to protect him.) My husband. 

Agnes.— Tour husband ? I don't understand. 

Thompson. — T don't understand this predicament either. 

Mrs. Thompson. — Yes, my husband. There must be some 
mistake. 

Thompson.— I came here to look for a nurse who advertises 
from here. 

Agnes. — From here? 

Thompson.— Yes, from here, {reads.) "Situations Wanted. 
Competent Infant's Nurse. Apply from 11 to 3 at 109 East 
Forty-ninth street, top flat." 

Agnes.— Oh, that Alfred ! He's gone and put it under " Sit- 
uations Wanted" instead of under " Help Wanted." But you 
can't blame me, Fanny. See this (shows the dispatch from 
Philadelphia to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson). 

Mrs. Thompson.— Well, I can't blame you, Agnes. Can you, 
John? — 



THE WILL. 59 

Mr. Thompson.— Why, no— tall, well-dressed, dark com- 
plexion, good-looking— it's complimentary. 

Policeman (who lias let go of Thompson). — Well, I suppose 
Fm not wanted any longer. [Exit with Maid. 

Agnes. — Mr. Thompson, how can I apologize? 

Mr. Thompson. — Don't mention it, Mrs. Daingerfield. I am 
most happy to have met you, even under such peculiar circum- 
stances. 

Agnes. — And I you. And now, Fanny dear, that you're here, 
you and Mr. Thompson must stay and dine with us, and after 
dinner we'll write out an advertisement for Alfred to put in the 
papers. 

Mrs. Thompson.— What shall it be ? 

Agnes. — Wanted — A competent infant's nurse for forgetful 
husbands. 

CUB TAIN. 



THE WILL; 

OR, 

"DON'T COUNT TOUR CHICKENS BEFORE 
THEY'RE HATCHED." 

Miss Ellen Pickering. 
(See note to Dialogue entitled u THE UNCLE." Page 28). 



CHAEACTEES. 



James Cleverly. 
Sandford. 



Mr. Doubtful. 
Mary. 



Enter Cleverly and Doubtful. 

Cleverley (with an elated air). — Xot only talked of, but ab- 
solutely settled, signed, sealed, and delivered. 



60 THE WILL. 

Doubtful. — "Was it properly witnessed ? I have known sev- 
eral legacies lost by there not being proper witnesses. 

Cleverly. — Trust me for that ; I am not going to lose a fine 
estate and fifteen thousand dollars a year for want of proper wit- 
nesses. Catch me asleep — when you can. 

Doubtful. — But suppose your uncle should'change his mind, 
and make another will? I have known many dying men do 
this. 

Cleverly. — Suppose the sky should fall we should catch larks 
— those that were quick enough, at least. Make" another will, 
indeed ! "Why the old man was nearly at his last gasp when I 
came away. 

Doubtful. — "Why did you leave him? Better have stayed: 
I have known many fortunes lost by the should-be-heirs going 
away. 

Cleverly. — I left him at his own desire, and there is the 
beauty of it. My mother — clever old woman my mother, she is 
always helping me out of a scrape— well, my mother must needs 
fall sick, and long, of course, for her loving son ; a sick mother's 
request must be complied with, so down I came. Think of the 
luck of getting so handsomely out of the gloom and dismals of a 
death-bed ! 

Doubtful. — Suppose your mother should die? 

Cleverly. — Oh ! she is come round again, so there is no vexa- 
tion about her. She is never ill at an inconvenient time — none 
of the Cleverlys ever are. 

Doubtful. — Indeed! very comfortable that — if true. 

Cleverly. — Yery comfortable! They say some people are 
born with silver spoons in their mouths ; I verily believe I was 
born with a gold one set with diamonds. Only think, Doubtful ! 
a fine estate with fifteen thousand dollars a year ! Pretty con- 
siderable luck, I fancy, and skill too ; it is not every one who 
can play his cards well. 

Doubtful. — The game is not played out yet. Suppose your 
uncle should rally, hear of your gaiety down here, fancy your 
mother's illness was all a sham, and make another will. 

Cleverly.— Pooh, pooh, Doubtful! I tell you he was too ill to 
rally ; besides, he thinks all I do is right. 



THE WILL. 61 

Doubtful. — How did you make him think that ? 

Cleverly. — By studying his tastes and opinions, and always 
agreeing in both. Of course, he counted me in consequence a per- 
fect Solomon. Think as another man thinks, and he proclaims 
you the wisest man in the world — save himself. Trust me for 
knowing which side my bread is buttered, aye, and for getting 
the butter laid on a little thicker too. JWhat is the worth of an 
opinion that is to be maintained to your own detriment ? Black 
may be white, red, or grey, as a rich man chooses; I will 
maintain it to be either or anything else for such a fortune. 

Doubtful. — Fortune indeed! I suppose now you will be 
marrying your pretty cousin, Mary. 

Cleverly. — Why as to that, you see, things are somewhat 
changed ; I shall look higher. "With my fortune, face, and fig- 
ure, I may choose where I will throw my handkerchief, and the 
thing's done. 

Doubtful. — But I thought you were desperately in love with 
her? 

Cleverly. — Pooh, pooh, Doubtful! the folly of a good man. 
I may have had a fancy — a slight penchant for her in former 
days, when we used to sit side by side in our pinafores and play 
blind man's buff together ; but, trust me, a man with fifteen 
thousand dollars a year is never desperately in love with any 
one but himself. 

Doubtful.— But she is very pretty, and amiable, and — 

Cleverly (interrupting him). 

" Toute cela est bonne et belle, 
Mais sans argent, a quoi sert-elle ?" 

Doubtful. — She has twenty thousand dollars. 

Cleverly. — "WTien I had nothing myself, even that seemed 
something ; but to a man with fifteen thousand a year it is a 
trifle — a mote in the sunbeam. 

Doubtful. — Having so much yourself, you need less with a 
wife. 

Cleverly. — A country bumpkin idea that. The more we 
have, the more we want. It would be losing caste for a man of 
my position to marry a girl with nothing. I must choose a wife 
in my own sphere. 



62 TEE WILL. 

Doubtful. — Poor girl ! she will feel disappointed, if she ever 
loved you. 

Cleverly. — If! there can be little doubt of that : but you deal 
in ifs — you doubt everything. 

Doubtful. — There are few things certain ; nothing, indeed, 
but death and the taxes. I have seen many a to-morrow differ- 
ent from what was expected. Poor Mary though ! If she should 
pine away at your desertion. 

Cleverly. — I should be sorry for it ; but it cannot be helped. 

Doubtful. — Who is to be the chosen one? 

Cleverly.— Oh, there is time enough to think about that, but 
I have not quite decided yet. 

Doubtful. — But the fortune is not yours yet. 

Cleverly. — You are like Paganini, always harping on one 
string ; I tell you it is certain. 

Doubtful. — I have seen many certain things, in my time, 
never come to pass. But here comes poor Mary. Treat her con- 
siderately, delicately. 

Enter Mary, who greets her cousin cordially. 

Mary. — Ah ! Cousin James. How do you do ? I have been 
wishing to see you. 

Cleverly (stiffly, drawing himself up). — You do me honor. 

Mary (mimicking his tone). — Do you honor? Why, what is 
this, Cousin James? Here have you been ten days in this 
neighborhood, and yet never once been near us. 

Cleverly (ivith hauteur). — Circumstances have changed. 

Mary. — And persons, too, it seems. In former days, there 
was no keeping you out of our house ; there you were, morning, 
noon, and night ; as often in the way as out, yet never seeing it ; 
playing with and teasing me as boy and man ; and now you are 
looking as stiff as a poker with a noli me tangere air, as much as 
to say, •■ Keep distance due." I am more than half inclined to 
cut you. 

Cleverly.— Cut me, Mary! ha, ha, ha, that is good! I shall 
be happy to patronize my poor relations, but we shall hence- 
forth move in such different circles that there can be but little 
intercourse between us. 

Mary. — Different circles, James! I do not understand 



TEE WILL, 63 

you. What makes yon so good and fine all of a sndden ? 

Cleverly. — Oh ! I thought you knew : my uncle has left me 
the whole of his fortune — all his real estate and fifteen thousand 
dollars a year. Of course I shall mix with the upper-ten — 

Mary (laughing). — And cannot associate with such canaille 
as his poor relations. I understand you now, and beg to make 
you my best courtesy for your promise to patronize me and the 
rest of my family. May we presume to address you when we 
meet, or must you, like royalty, make the first move ? 

Cleverly. — We shall meet but rarely, as, of course, I shall 
move in the highest circles. 

Mary. — Oh! of course; and we poor relations must not pre* 
sume on our former intimacy with a landed proprietor, having 
such an income. With all due humility, I wish you good-morn- 
ing, Mr. Cleverly, Cousin James no more. You may depend on 
my not shocking you by claiming acquaintance, should our paths 
ever cross. Let me take a last look of your grandeur. I declare 
you outdo the king of diamonds in your dignity. 

Cleverly (aside). — What mischief in her eyes ! how pretty 
the baggage looks. (Aloud.) You need not go, Mary; I would 
talk with you a little longer. 

Mary (with much gravity). — Thank you, Mr. Cleverly. How 
condescending you are. 

Cleverly. — I shall always be condescending to my relations, 
as long as they do not presume on my good nature ; but it is 
better to have our positions clearly defined. I shall always re- 
member you with kindness, Mary ; but, of course, with fifteen 
thousand a year, I may command a bride with rank and wealth, 
and you have neither, unluckily. 

Mary. — Or luckily, as the chance may be. Have you anything 
more to say ? 

Cleverly. — Since you insist on my being explicit then, I shall 
look high for a bride : in short, you can never be Mrs. Cleverly. 

Mary. — And who ever dreamt of such a thing ? Pray set your 
mind at rest on that score, Mr. Cleverly; such a fancy never 
entered my heart. 

Doubtful. — There ! I told you before, I doubted her being 
attached to you. 



64 THE WILL. 

Cleverly {piqued). — You doubt everything — I have no doubts 
on the subject, there are such things as sour grapes. 

Mary. — And self- sufficient coxcombs. Suppose you propose, 
and put me to the proof. 

Cleverly. — Excuse me; I seek a bride among the aristocracy. 
I shall have no objection to bow to you when we meet ; but with 
fifteen thousand a year — 

Doubtful. — It is not yours yet. 

Cleverly. — You are mistaken : here comes Sandford, my 
uncle's man of business, to announce the old man's death. 
Enter Sandford. 

Cleverly (with a show of grief). — I guess the melancholy 
purport of your news. 

Sandford. — I am glad you do, since it will save me the pain- 
ful duty of relating it. 

Cleverly. — Yes; I read in your looks that my most highly 
respected uncle is no more. So good — so kind — so generous — a 
loss indeed to his afflicted survivors. He must have a handsome 
funeral, Sandford; one fitting his fortune, and, of course, I at- 
tend as chief mourner. 

Sandford. — The ordering everything rests with his heiress. 

Cleverly. — His heir, you mean ; and a most wise leaving too ; 
but he was always famous for his judgment and penetration. 
You need not try to deceive me : I know he has left all his for- 
tune to his well-beloved nephew, James Cleverly. 

Sandford. — You are mistaken : he has left the whole of his 
fortune to his well-beloved niece, Mary Hutton. 

Cleverly (aside). — To Mary! and I have just jilted her; but 
it cannot be true. (Aloud.) Impossible, Mr. Sandford! impos- 
sible ! I know his will was made in my favor. 

Sandford. — Hearing some report that displeased him, he 
burned that will and made another. 

Cleverly. — I shall dispute this last will ; the old man was not 
in his senses. 

Sandford. — Full proof can be brought of that : he was always 
famous for his judgment and penetration, you know. 

Doubtful. — I congratulate you, Miss Hutton. 

Cleverly (aside). — I will make a bold stroke — I could cut out 



THE WILL. 65 

my tongue for saying what I did before. (Aloud.) Oh, Mary! 
I see how it is now — I understand it all. My uncle, knowing 
our long attachment, thought it more courteous to leave the for- 
tune to you, being the lady. 

Mary. — You are mistaken there ; my uncle had far too much 
penetration and judgment to fancy any such attachment. I 
shall be very happy to patronize you when I give parties in town, 
or just bow to you when we meet, and shall always be conde- 
scending to my relations, as long as they do not presume on my 
good nature ; but it is better to have our positions clearly de- 
fined. I shall always regard you with kindness, James ; but of 
course with fifteen thousand a year, I can never be Mrs. Clev- 
erly. 

Cleverly (with a forced laugh). — Yery good, Mary, capitally 
done ! but you know I was only in jest. You know I have long 
loved you. 

Mary. — Talk not to me of love that fortune could warm or 
chill. Farewell. My regard for the playfellow is changed into 
contempt for the man ; and the hand you now seek, becanse 
filled with gold, has long been pledged to another. Mr. Sand- 
ford, I am ready to attend you. 

[Exeunt Mary and Mr. Sandford, leaving Cleverly con- 
founded. 

Doubtful. — Where is your fortune, and where is your little 
bride? I told you not to bo certain; you remember the old 
proverb ? 

Cleverly (angrily).— I hate proverbs ; they are vulgar, fusty, 
musty, old sayings. \_Flingsoutof the room. 

Doubtful. — Ay, ay; there is nothing certain, but death and 
the taxes. I Ex it. 

CURTAIN. 



66 



WHO WEARS THE BREECHES? 

By H. Elliott M'Bride. 



CHABACTEBS. 



Hans Klofer, a small Man, 

Katy Klofer, his Wife, a large Woman. 



SCENE I. — A shoemaker's shop. Hans Klofer seated on 
"bench engaged in making boots. 

Hans. — Yell, I tinks I lias done pooty yell. I has made a 
pooty goot deal of money, nnd I pelieve I vill dake de vorld a 
leedle easier dan vot I has peen doin' for same years pehind. 
Dere ain't much use in a man vorkin' and vorkin' und makin' 
poots and shoes all his life und not dakin' any goot of de money. 
I haf got a goot deal of broperty now, und I ain't got no shild to 
leaf it to, und vot's de use of me vorkin' on un matin' poots und 
shoes for beople dot von't tank me for it ? eh ? I shoost pelief 
dot I vill nefer do sich fool tings any more. I mil subschripe 
for dwo or dree newsbapers vich has some news und some lofe 
shtories in dem und den I vill sit in my pig arm rockin' shair up, 
und read de news und dalk to de beople apout bollyticks und de 
vedder. Und maype I vill run for de shquire or de legislature, 
und I vill git to pe a pig feller shoost like some odder men dat 
don't know any more as I does. But apout dis ting of shuttin' 
up shop und qvittin' de peesness. It seems dot I can't git it 
done. Yell, shoost hold on dwo or dree minutes und let me dink 
avhile. (Stops tvork.) De only vay I will git it done vill pe 
shoost to sdop und nefer commence again. (Throws down his 
tools.) Dere you go, und you may lie dere ; I shoost von't nefer 
dake you up again. Dere is von poot dot is apout dree-fourts 
made und de odder von is altogedder made und Sam Jones is 
vantin' dem pooty pad, but I shoost may as veil qvit at de mid- 
dle of a poot as any odder blace. (Gets up, kicks the boots 



WHO WEABS THE BREECHES f 67 

aside and ivalJcs around.) Yes, I haf retired now und I am 
goin' to git a pig rockin' shair and a pig shmoke bipe nnd sub- 
schripe for dwo or dree newsbapers nnd I yill den dake it easy. 
(Kicks tlie boots again.) Git oudt of dis, yon old poots. Sam 
Jones von't git no more poots from me. Dot's blayed oud, Sam 
Jones ain't goin' to make a slafe of me, or anypody else. I feel 
dot I am now a free man, nnd vy shouldn' I pe ? Eh ? 
Enter Katy Klofer. 

Katy.— Hans, vot does dis mean? Thy ain't yon at your 
work ? Tot you yalkin' apout for 1 Haf you got de toofache ? 

Hans. — Xo, but I haf retired from peesness. Dot is, I haf 
goncluded dat I yill not York any more. 

Katy. — Hans, dot yon't do now. You are cutting up some 
more shines. Yill I haf to gif you anodder svitching? 

Hans. — No, Katy, you need'nt droubie yourself apout dot. 
But I haf peen tinkin' de madder ofer, and I tinks dat I am git- 
tin' too old to do much york. Und den ye haf no shilder, und 
yot's de use of yorkin' und yorkin' yen ye haf nopody but our 
own relationtiyes to leaf our money to ? 

Katy. — But, Hans, someting may happen to us. Ye may lose 
de money, or ye may git sick' or you may git your leg proke or 
someting or annodder may go wrong, und den yot yoald you 
do ? I tinks dot it is de duty of eyery man to york as long as he 
is aple. 

Hans. — But I ish hardly able to york. You know I ish apout 
feefty-dree years old und a haf, und yen a man gits dot old und 
has a conshideraple bile of money he ought to sdop yorkirjg und 
qyit de peesnees. Und pesides all dese tings, I haf a notion of 
runnin' for de shquire or de legislature. Dere's Shquire Schmidt, 
und he don't kno^v any more as I do, und he is makin' lots of 
money shoost by doin' notin' but sittin' in a pig arm shair und 
actio' up as a Shustice of de Beace. Now I haf hammered dis 
yay (motion as if hammering) und dis yay, und I haf sewed mit 
a yaxed end dis yay (motions as if sewing) und dis yay, und I 
haf yorked py daylight und py lamp light ondil I am pooty pig 
tired of de peesness. Und I yants to sdop. If I haf to make 
any more money I vant to make it py bein' de Shustice of de 
Beace or py runnin' afder de legislature. 



68 WEO WEARS THE BREECHES? 

Katy. — TJnd vhen vas you tinkin' of leafin' the peesness. 

Hans. — I vas tinkin' of leafin' it shoost right avay, vidout 
hammerin' anodder hammer, or sewm' anodder stitch. De fact 
of de madder is I haf left de peesness now. I haf flung dem 
poots down und I vill nefer dake dem up again. 

Katy. — Whose poots are dey ? 

Hans. — Dey are Sam Jones's poots. 

Katy. — Und vould you sdop right now und not finish dot 
man's poots ? 

Hans. — Yes, I haf to sdop somevhere, und I shoost might as 
veil sdop on Sam Jones's poots or anypody else's poots. 

Katy. — Han's, you are von pig fool. 

Hans. — Tou vouldn't say dot, Katy, if I should git to he a pig 
Shustice of de Beace. 

Katy. — Hans, pick up dem poots und go to vork. 

Hans. — But I vas tinkin' apout retirin' from de peessness. 

Katy. — I don't vant to stand here and dalk ferry long. I 
hafn't got de time. But I vant you you to go to vork pooty 
qvick, or I vill dake hold of you und set you town on de bench. 

Hans. — But, Katy, you ton't understand de case. If I qvit 
vork und retire from de peesness I. can buy a pig arm chair und 
subscribe for dwo or dhree newsbapers, und vhen de beoples sees 
me readin' dem, des vill say dot I am verry intelligent man, und 
den shoost as like as not dey vill put me in for de Shustice of de 
Beace. Und den afder dot I vould be pooty sure to be bersuaded 
by my friends to run afder de legislature. 

Katy. — Hans, you are von fool. Tou ain't nobody und you 
could 'nt git elected to nothin'. Do you see dem poots of Sam 
Jones's vich is lyin' scaddered around? 

Hans. — Yes, I see dem poots. But, Katy, vhen a feller qvits 



Katy (interrupting him). — Sdop, Hans ! ton't say anodder 
vord. Pick up dem poots of Sam Jones's und go to vork. 

Hans (picking up the boots). — But, you see, Katy — 

Katy. — Not anodder vord, Hans j go to vork. 

Hans (aside). — Katy is von onreasonable voman. (Seats him- 
self and commences to work on the boot.) 

Katy. — Sam Jones is vantin' his poots und you had petter git 



WHO WEAES THE BBEECHESf 69 

dem finished up pooty qviek or, I vill gif yon von pooty bad 
skutchin'. 

Hans (aside). — I vish dot voman vos no vife of mine. 

Katy. — iN"ow, Hans, I vill gif yon a dalkin' to. Ton mustn't 
dake no more pig fool notions indo your head dot you are a smart 
man und dot you can git for to pe a Shustice of de Beace, or 
tings of dot kind. You rant to qvit vork und den de money 
vould soon all pe gone to tunderation, und den ve voufcL haf to 
go to de boor house. Hans, it is a pooty goot ting you got me for 
a vife. If you had got any odder vomans, shust as like as not 
you vould haf peen as boor as Shob's durkey. You vould haf peen 
runnin' around tryin' to pe Shustice of de Beace, und you vould 
haf spent all your money, und den you vould haf peen of no ac- 
count und you vould haf gone to de boor house und shoost haf 
peen notings at'all. 

Hans (laying down his work). — But, Katy — 

Katy. — Shut up, Hans, und go on mit your vork. I am goim 
to do all de dalkin' now, und Sam Jones is wantin' dem new 
poots. 

Hans (aside). — I feel pooty near pad enough to go grazy. 
(Commences work again.) 

Katy. — I know dwo, dree, seferal men dot took sich notions 
into der heads dot dey vould qvit der peesness und sit around t 
und git to pe pig fellers, und it vasn't a ferry much long shpell 
ondil dey vas clean proke up und knocked all to smash und tun- 
deration. It ain't a good vay. It ain't a goot vay, nohow, for 
a man is pooty sure to git to drinkin' und gamplin' und shvearin' 
und shtealin ? und blayin' gards und odder tings too numerous to 
tink apout. !Now, Hans, I von't say noting more apout dis now j 
I must go out und git de dinner. But shoost you stick to your 
vork, und vhen you git done mit Sam Jones's poots fly at und 
make anodder pair. Dot's de vay to make a lifin' in dis vorld. 
But it ain't no good to pe runnnV around huntin' afder Shustices 
of de Beaces und sich odder offices vich ton't amount to noting. 
I'm goin' out now und I vant you to keep piggin' avay. 

[Exit Katy. 

Hans (laying down his tvork). — I vish I had nefer got married 
in dis whole vorld, or if I had got married I vish I hadn't got 



70 WHO WEARS THE BREECHES t 

sich a pig, bossin' voman. Now, she ton't know vot is goot for 
de United States, or she vouldn't pe keepin' me from rethink from 
de shoe peesness nnd rnnnin' for de Shnstice of de Beace. I vish 
she vould mind her own peesness nnd not come indo my shop 
bodderm'- me nnd inderferin' mit my blans. I haf a pooty goot 
mind to git np nnd do someting desperate — someting dot vill 
make Katy pooty pad sheared. Bnt vot vill I do? Dot's de 
question. Till I commit snicide mit a bistol ? Xo, dot von't do. 
If I vas killed mit a bistol I couldn't pe elected Shnstice of de 
Beace. Und if I vas elected I vonldn't serve, under dem con- 
siderations. Till I tear de house town und act up grazy ? or 

vill I (Steps outside. ) Cracious ! dere's Katy comin' pack. 

(Hastily gathers up his ivork.) I vonder vhy she doesn't go 
ahead und git de dinner. 

Enter Katy. 

Katy. — I see you are vorkin' avay, Hans. Dot is righd. 
Eferypody should keep vorkin' und pe peezy. Dot is de vay dot 
people git rich, but nopody don't git rich if dey don't keep 
vorkin'. I shoost dropped in to see if you vas vorkin' und I see 
you vas doin' pooty veil, so I vill go out again. I Ex it Katy. 

Hans (laying down his work). — I vish dot vooman vould keeb 
out of my shop und mind t her own peesness. I ton't vant no 
vooman to pe runnin { in here und bossin' me around. I tinks I 
is capable to addend to de shoemakio' myself und I'll be pooty 
apt to dell her so if she ton't mind out vot she's apout. There ! 
(Tlirows one of the boots across the room.) Go to tunder, you 
old poot ! Do you tink I am goin' to sit here all day und do 
notin' but make poots und hammer at de ledder? I shoost feel 
now like as if I vas goin' to do someting dot vill git up a fuss 
und make tings lifely around dis blace. Tot vill it pe ? Yes, I 
haf it ! I haf it ! I vill go und git on a pig sbree ; I vill go on a 
pig drunk und dot vill make Katy pooty pad sheared. (Rises and 
gets his hat.) Und maype if she gits pooty pad sheared she will 
not say nothing apout me retirin' from de poot und shoe pees- 
ness. I ton't care tor nothing for I am gom' out on a pig drunk. 
I'll make Katy pooty pad sheared, und dot vill pe sholly — don't 
it. lExit Hans. 



WHO WEARS THE BREECHES f 71 

SCEXE IT.— A Room. Enter Hans intoxicated. 

Hans. — I expose it is pooty late und Katy has gone to ped. 
(Staggers.) Yell, dot is righd in Katy. She tout need to sit up 
for me ; I can find de vay. I haf had a pig sholly dime. Ye had 
blenty to eat und blenty to drink und ye had de piggest dime I 
efer heard of. I kinder like de peesness of gittin' on a drunk. I 
vould shoost radder git on a drunk as not now und den. (Stumbles 
against a chair.) Yot is dot? Yes, a tink dot is a chair. Yell, 
I expose I might sit town und rest minesel, for I feels pooty 
tired. Ye haf had sich a sholly pig night. Oh, awful sholly ! 
(Tries to sit down on a chair and falls on the floor.) Tunder ! 
vot's proke ? I set town a goot deal und all at von dime. I s'bose 
dot vould make a noise und kind of shake de house a leedle. 
Maype it vill yake Katy up out of her sieeb und dot yould pe a 
bitty. (Rises with difficulty and scats himself on the chair.) 
.Now, I yonder yot Katy yill say apout dis affair. I s'bose she 
yon't altogedder like it, but den I ton't care for Katy. I feel 
pooty strong und I tink I could yhip Katy if I could haf a fair 
fight. 

Enter Katy. 

Katy. — You old plockhead, yere haf you been so long? 

Hans. — Hush, Katy, ton't talk out so loud; you yill yaken all 
de sleebers dot is sleebing all around us, und dot youldn't pe 
right. 

Katy. — Cracious ! Tunder und lightnin' ! De man's peen 
drinkin'. Hans, yere haf you peen ? 

Hans. — Yell, now, Katy, you haf peen a pooty goot yife to 
me und I'll dell you all apout it. I vent town to de saloon und 
I shoost hung aroundt all day, und afore I knowed yot I vas 
apout I had got a leedle too much. 

Katy. — You drunken old fool, Til pay you for dot. (She seizes 
him by the collar and hurls him off his chair.) 

Hans. — Murder und blixen ! Dot yas a terriple clap of tun- 
der. 

Katy. — Are you goin' to make a beast of yourself? 

Hans {sitting on the fioor).— Dot is de question dot is nowpehind 
de house. Yell, no, I tinks I yill not make dot kind of a ting out 



72 WHO WEARS THE BREECHES? 

of mineself. But I haf peen tinkin' apout rnakin' a Shustice of 
de Beace out of mineself. Yot you say apout it ? 

Katy. — You drunken fool, stop your talk. (Sits down and 
seems to be in deep thought.) 

Hans. — Yell, I yill rise to oxblain apout dis circumstance. 
(Tries to get up bat falls.) Yell, I vill oxblain mitout risin', 
und I guess dot yill pe shoost as yell. You see, I tinks dot I am 
pooty old — I am feefty-dree years old und a haf, und you are 
feefty-one years old und a haf, put you are sich a pig yoman dot 
a'most anypody yould say dot you yas eighty-dree or eighty-four 
years old und a haf, und ye haf not got any shild of our own — 
und vofs de use of me yorkin' und yorkin' vhen ve might shoost 
as yell pe Shustice of de Beace as not ? Now, I rise to make dis 
motion — no, I yill shoost make it mitout risin'. Yot's de use of 
risin' yhen I yill shoost git knocked ofer again ? But dis is yot I 
vas goin' to say : ye are poth gittin' pooty old. Yot do you say 
apout it, Eaty ? 

Katy. — Shut up, you drunken fool. I'm not listenin' to your 
gabblin'. 

Hans. — Yell, den, I yill broceed mit de subject. I pelief I 
vill git up und sit on a shair. (Rises and seats himself on a 
chair.) Now I yill go on mit my argument, vich is in fafer of 
retirin' from de tiresome peesness of in akin' shoes. De 'firma- 
tif, it is to pe sboke by Hans Klofer und de negatif, it is to pe 
sboke by Katy Klofer. I is on de 'firmatif of de question und I 
vill go ahead. Yhen beople gits old — dot is yhen dey git to pe 
feeffcy-dree years old und a haf— 

Katy (springs up and spealcs suddenly). — Did you finish dera 
poots of Sam Jones's ? 

Hans. — Finish dem poots of Sam Jones's ? No, I vent avay 
pofore tinner und Sam Jones's poots vas shcattered all ofer de 
shop yhen I left. But dot isn't de question vich ve are now de- 
batin'. De question is dis — 

Katy. — Shut up, you drunkard. (She seizes him by the collar 
and throws him on the floor.) 

Hans (on the floor). — Tunder ! I is town here again. I shoost 
might as veil haf stayed town here pefore. Yell, vhen dot ques- 
tion comes up for debate again dere is -one ting dot I yill pe sure 



WHO WEARS THE BREECHES? 73 

apout, mid dot isdis, I haf gotde floor. (Exit Katy.) Katy isn't 
in a ferry goot humor. I s'bose she's gone to ped. Yell, I'm 
pooty glad apout dot, for vhen she's here she dumpies me 
arouudt shoost like as if it wasn't no tifference. I tink Katy has 
peen considerin' de matter und she vill let me retire from de shoe 
peesness und git to pe a Shquire or a Shustice of de Beace. She 
sees dot I vill dake to drink pooty hard if I ton't git my vay 
apout dis matter. Of course she doesn't vant de mouey to git 
itself shquandered und dot's vot she's afraid apout, und dot's de 
reason she ton't vant me to quit de peesness. But she needn't 
git sheared apout dot, for I'll shoost be as stingy as anypody. 

Enter Katy, carrying a pair of boots. 

Katy. — Dere, Hans, go to vork und git at it mighty qvick. 
I von't haf no foolin'. Dem poots must pe finished pefore day- 
light in de mornin'. (TJirows down the loots.) 

Hans. — Tunder und peesvax ! You ton't say dot ! 

Katy. — Yes, I do, und I mean it. Go to vork. 

Hans.— But it is pooty lade. I s'bose it's twelf o'clock at 
night. 

Katy. — Yell, it ton't make no tifference if it vas feefteen 
o'glock. You haf got to finish dem poots. 

Hans. — But, Katy, ton't you know I is shoost comin' off a pig 
drunk? 

Katy. — Yes, I know ail apout dot und I ton't vant any dalk 
on de subject. If you stay at de tafern half of de night you vill 
haf to vork de odder half. 

Hans (rising and seating himself on a chair). — Oh, dear! dis 
is pooty distressin'. (Aside.) My Yife is Yon regular old toyfel. 

Katy (commandingly). — Take hold of de poots. 

Hans. — Yes, I vill take hold (picks up the hoots), und I vill 
do my pest, put dey will pe von shpoiled lot of poots ; for, you 
see, I is too drunk to make poots right. 

Katy. — You'll haf to finish dem anyhow. 

Hans. — But my reputation as a poot maker vill pe knocked to 
smash if I make poots vhen I is tight. Und dot vould pe awful 
if I ton't retire from de peesness. 

Katy. — You'll haf to finish dem poots for I'm goin' to stand 



74 WHO WEARS THE BREECHES? 

ofer you mit a strap in my hand. {Produces strap.) Now go to 
vork right avay instantly. 

Hans.— Goot cracions ! how can I go to vork mitout de tools? 

Katy.— Go to de shop nnd git de tools nnd be pooty qvick 
apout it. 

Hans.— Yes, I vill. (Aside.) My vife is vorser dan de toyfel 
afore daylight. \. Exit Hans - 

Eaty.— Hans is gifin' me a goot deal of dronples, nnd I viH 
haf to pe pooty severe mit him. He has gone off to de daferns 
mid got drunk. Dot is awful pad. I von't haf no drunken hus- 
pand apout dis house— no, I vill not. Now, shoost as like as not 
he vill git shleeby und he vill vant to go shleeb vhen he is vorkm' 
at dem poots, but he shan't shleep— no, not a vink of de eye 
ondil dem poots of Sam Jones's is finished up— dreed and all. 
I'll show Hans Klofer apout dakin' a pet und goin' off to de 
davern und gittin' drunk und stayin' half de night. Dot kind of 
vork can't pe vorked aroundt apout here. I am shoost goin' to 
set my foot town righd straight upon it. 

Enter Hans carrying shoemaker's bench and some tools. 

Hans. — Yell, I haf come pack. 

Katy. — Sit town den und go to vork. 

Hans (setting down his bench and seating himself upon it). — 
I vill git to de peesness righd avay, but I am sheared apout de 
kind of a job it vill pe. I is apout half drunk und apout half 
ashleeb und dem poots of Sam Jones's vill be one shpoiled job. 

Katy. — I'll attend to dot. I'll pe a zort of a Shustice of de 
Beace for dis ogeasion, und I'll see dot de vork is done right. 
(Raises the strap over him.) 

Hans. — Yes, I is goin' to vork, und I tinks I can do de vork 
pooty veil under de circumstances. (Commences to work.) But, 
Katy, vould you pe so kind as to allow me to sing a song or two 
vhile I is vorkin' shoost to keeb me from goin' to shleeb ? 

Katy. — Sing so much as you vant to, but do your vork veil. 
Sam Jones has alvays peen a good gustomer — he alvays pays up 
righd on de spot, und de poots must pe made shoost exactly righd. 

Hans (working rapidly). — Yes, dot's de correct brinciple for a 
man vich is in de shoe peesness. If de gustomer pays up righd 



WHO WEARS THE BREECHES f 75 

on de spot, den make him a goot boot, but if he does'nt pay up 
for a long shbell, or if he doesn't pay at all, or if he nefer pays, 
den make dot man a pad poot — one dot vill rip und tear all to 
tunder. Dot's been my brinciple, und I haf got along well in de 
shoe peesness. I haf laid up a goot deal of money und I am 
gittin' pooty old. I is feefty-dree years old und a half, und I 
could afford to retire from peesness. 

Katy. — You vork at de poots petterish vhen you is platherin', 
so you may plather avay. But dere's von or dwo pegs not qvite 
righd. 

Hans. — Yes, but I'll fix dot up. I has peen in de shoemakin' 
peesness for a long shbell — dirty-dree or dirty-four years, und I 
ought to know someting apout dis dime apout drifin' a peg. 

Katy. — Don't gif me any of your impudence — I von't dake it 
from a drunk man. 

Hans. — I didn't vant to be impudent to you, Katy, for you is 
a remarkaple nice voman und I tink a great deal of you. But I 
vas shoost remarkin' dot I had peen in de shoemakin' peesness 
for — 

Katy. — Yell, go on mit your vork und don't dalk so much. 

Hans. — Yes, dot is vot I is apout. I is yorkin' mighty fast, 
for I vants to git done. I don't vant to pe vorkin' all day und 
all night too. 

Katy. — If you had vorked all day instead of goin' off und git- 
tin' drunk you vouldn't haf had to vork now. 

Hans. — Yes, I s'bose dot is so. Yell, I vill sing avhile for I 
haf shoost dalked apout all de dalkin' I haf got. Let me see — 
vot vill I sing? Yes, I vill gif you someting dot is a leedle 
batriotic. {Sings " Star Spangled Banner .") 

*' Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light, 
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight s last gleaming, 

(Sings drowsily) — 

"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through — 
(Lets his tools fall on the floor.) 

Katy. — Hans, vake up und go to vork. I can't allow no 
shleebin' now. Sam Jones must haf dem poots against day- 
light. 

Hans (recovering from Ms drowsiness and gathering up his 



76 WHO WEARS THE BREECHES? 

work).— fiello ! vas I goin' to shleeb? Yell, I did'nt know dot 
I vas so shleeby. Dot is von shleeby song anyhow. I vill sing 
someting lifely. (Sings.) 

" So led de vide vorld vag as it vill, 

111 pe gay und habby still, 

Gay und habby, 

Gay und habby, 

I'll pe gay und habby still." 

STow, Katy, I'll sing yon a leedle biece of anodder song. (Sings.) 

*' My vife und I lif all alone 

In a leedle log hut ve call our own, 
She lof es gin und I lofe rum, 
I dell you now we'fe lots of fun. 
Ha, ha, ha ! you und me, 
Leedle prown jug, don't I lofe dee ? 
Ha, ha, ha ! you und me, 
Leedle prown jug, don't I lofe dee ? " 

I vich I co aid git von pig drink shoost now — righd ont of dot 
leedle prown jng. I is mighty dry. (Sings.) 

"Ha, ha, ha ! you und me, 
Leedle prown jug, don't I lofe dee ? 
Ha, ha, ha ! you und me, 
Leedle prown jug, don't I lofe dee ? " 

(Tlirows doicn tools and loots.) Dere! dem poots of Sam 
Jones's is done at last. Und I am pooty shleeby. 

Katy. — Und yon may go to ped if yon bromise dot yon vill 
nefer drink any more peer, rnm, chin, vhisky, prandy or anyting 
dot vill make yon git drank nnd make a pig fool of yonrself. 

Hans. — Yell, I von't nefer drink noting — I vill qvitnnd nefer 
dake a drop if yon vill shoost let me retire from de shoemakin' 
peesness nnd ran for de Shnstlce of de Beace. 

Katy. — Yon are von pig dnnce to speak of sich a thing. I 
von't agree to dot. Yon are von shtrong man nnd I am von 
shtrong voman, nnd ve can poth vork for a goot many years. I 
von't allow you to stop vork, nohow. 

Hans. — But den de vorld might be losin' von goot Shustiee of 
de Beaces if I should keep on vorkin\ 

Katy.— Yell, de vorld may lose six thousand Shustices of de 
Beace for all dot I care. I tinks ve haf got too many of dem. 



WHO WEARS THE BEEECMESf 77 

Dey ain't of no account but to keep np the tafern peesness und to 
keep beople fighdin'. 

Hans. — Den you von't hear to de broposition dot I retire froni 
de shoemakin' und de bootmakin' peesness ? 

Katy (shaking her strap), — Xo, I vill not. TJnd I vill vhack' 
von, und I vill yhip you und I vill drounce you if you efer go und 
git drunk again. Do you bromise dot you vill nefer drink any 
more peer, rum, shin, vhisky, prandy, or anyting dot vill make 
you git drunk ? 

Hans. — Katy. I don't tink I ought to bromise, for I might need 
a leedle peer somedimes for de goot of my health. 

Katy (raising lier strap). — Bromise pooty qvick, or I vill 
drounce you. 

Hans. — Yes, I bromise. 

Katy. — Dot is righd. Now you may go to ped. 

Hans. — Den you von't allow me to retire from de shoemakin' 
peesness ? 

Katy.— No. 

Hans. — Den you von't let me run for de Shustice of de Beace ? 

Katy. — No. 

Hans (speaking to the audience). — Den dere is von remark dot 
I vant to make. 

Katy.— Yot is dot? 

Hans (to audience). — My vife, vich her name is Katy, she 
vears de pritches und I am de voman. 

CUBTAIJW. 



78 



1 COLD IN THE HEAD. 

By Mrs. Ktjssell Kavanatjgh. 



CHARACTERS. 



Isabel Tracy, a fashionable belle. 

Julia Kesgrove, a friend to Isabel. 

Mrs. Graham, sister-in-law to Alex. Graham. 

Alex. Graham, a rich bachelor, recently returned from Europe. 

Leonard Appleton, a friend to Graham. 

Betty, maid of all work. 



SCEXE L— A room in Mrs. Graham's house, arranged as a 
boudoir. On one side, near back of stage, a table with books 
and writing materials. On the opposite side of stage a large 
arm-chair, upon which is seen an old gentleman's dressing- 
gown, skull-cap, etc. Mrs. Graham discovered reading a 
letter. SJie ivalks to and fro impatiently. 

Mrs. Graham (pauses). — It is impossible for me to settle my- 
self to regular employment when I am expecting Alex. Graham 
every moment. (Reads.) Tes ; he says he will sail on the 15th. 
In that case he ought to be here to-day. (Noise outside ; she 
assumes a listening attitude; trips across to the opposite en- 
trance; steps approach.) Some one is coming up the stairs. 
(Looks out and listens.) It is certainly a man's step. (Claps 
her hands.) Tes, yes; it is Alex. 

Enter Alex. Graham. 

Mrs. Graham (runs toward him, seizes his arm, leads him to 
front of stage, looking smilingly into his face). — And it is indeed 
really your dear old self ! How do you do ? I am so glad you are 
back safe ! I was so afraid of that abominable ocean at tins 
season. Such awful winds ! (Shudders. ) But dear me ! how 
muffled up you are ! (Scrutinizes Alex. ) 

Alex.— Well, you bay say "buffied up " ad "awful wids," I 



A COLD IN THE HEAD. 79 

clever had such a cold id all by life. (Affects the symptoms of a 
cold in the head.) I've sneezed byself to death. Every bode id 
by body aches. 

Mrs. Graham (aside). — How unfortunate, and Miss Tracy's 
ball so near ! (To Alex.) Pshaw ! It is nothing ! Every body 
has a cold now. I gness it is occasioned by the weather and fall 
rains. There is no danger, unless it affects your lungs. A cold 
in the head is nothing. 

Alex. — But it's so confounded disagreeable. 

Mrs. Graham. — I know; but it's so easily cured. You'll 
soon get over it. A cold in the head is nothing serious. 

Alex, (ironically). — Oh, do! A cold id the head is dothing ! 
It's dothiDg to have a red dose (sneezes), a buzzig in your ears, 
paids all over your body like so bany needles ad scissors sticking 
you ! Oh, do ; it's dothing. A bad had as well be dead. 
(Sneezes.) 

Mrs. Graham (laughs aside). — I can't help laughing. {To 
Alex.) Your voice does sound funny. (Alex, seats himself 
disconsolately.) But don't look so doleful, dear Alex. You are 
worth all the dead men yet. Xever mind ; I will nurse you up. 
I'll get a mustard plaster, and make some Irish-moss tea, and 
have a rousing hot stew. You'll be straight in time for Isabel 
Tracy's ball. (Aside.) I wouldn't have her to see him now for 
a million! (To Alex.) Let me see. In the first place I'll 
drop her a note, saying you won't be here for a week ; that is, 
I'll write as soon as I get you under treatment. She will put off 
the ball, I am sure. (Goes up to Alex, unclasps the fur collar, 
takes off his hat, puts them aside, draws the arm-chair to ex- 
treme corner of stage, gathers up the gown and cap, and ap- 
proaches alex.) Xow, my dear old boy, you must not be obsti- 
nate. Do as I say, and you will soon be relieved. 

Alex, (dolefully). — Ibe willing to do anything id reason. 

Mrs. Graham. — Yery well then; take off that heavy overcoat. 
(Alex, obeys.) Xow your neck-tie — fhere. (Holds sleeve of 
gown open.) 

Alex.— What dext ? 

Mrs. Graham (laughs). — You old simpleton ! 'Why, put your 
hand in the sleeve. (Alex, puts on gown,) It is ever so much 



eo . A COLD IN THE HEAD. 

too big, but all you want is comfort. Here is papa's nice warm 
skull-cap (puts it on Alex.'s head) to keep your ears from the 
draught. You'll be so cosy in this great chair here by the tire. 
(Pushes Alex, into chair; he leans hack, shuts his eyes, and 
sneezes.) 

Alex.— dear ! dear ! (Mrs. Graham runs off the stage; 
returns immediately, followed by Betty with foot-tub.) 

Mrs. Graham.— Put the tub at Mr. Graham's feet. Dr. Blue- 
pill says keep the extremities warm. Depend upon it, you'll 
soon be well, and can dance at the ball. 

Alex. — Did you tell Biss Tracy that I ab rich? 

Mrs. Graham (deprecatingly). — IsTo indeed; she thinks you 
are as poor as anybody. Oh, she is a charming girl. (To 
Betty. ) Ton can go ; when Mr. Graham rings you can come 
and take away the tub. 

Betty. — Yes, ma'am. [Exit Betty. 

Alex. — How lo'g will you be gone ? 

Mrs. Graham.— Oh, not long. But you be sure to keep your 
feet in the water. (Alex, makes grimace as he puts his feet in 
the tub ; Mrs. Graham touches water in tub with her fingers.) 
Pshaw ! that water is not too hot ? You men can't stand any- 
thing. (Puts on hat and gloves.) Now, old boy, think of Miss 
Tracy and be quiet, and you may snatch a nap. I'll soon be 
back and bring ever so many nice things — mustard plasters and 
all. 

Alex. — I abominate bustard plasters and detest teas. 

Mrs. Graham (arranges cap on Alex.'s head). — That is non- 
sense. Keep quiet, that's an old darling, and you shall have 
some chicken-broth and toast for a lunch. 

[Exit Mrs. Graham. 

Alex, (looks after Mrs. Graham).— There goes the best- 
hearted wobad in the world. (Groans, and looks round into the 
mirror. ) I suppose this is the way I'll look when I am old. 

Enler Mrs. Graham. 

Mrs. Graham.— I turned back to ask if I must go by and tell 
Leonard Appleton that you are here ? He doesn't know of your 
arrival. He thinks so much of you. 



A COLD IN THE HEAD. 81 

Alex. — Ob, yes, by all beans; tell him to cobe. 

Mrs. Graham (kisses her hand). — I will. Good-bye. 

[Exit Mrs. Graham. 

Alex. — Dear old Led. If he knew I had the small-box he'd 
cobe. (Looks toward mirror.) He will hardly know be; for I 
wonld doubt by owd identity if it were dot for this ring od my 
little findger. (Twirls ring, makes a wry face, draws his feet 
up.) W-h-e-w! how hot this water is! (Sneezes.) Ab I to be 
boiled alive like a lobster ? Ball, indeed ! I look like dadcing ! 
(Looks in glass, and pushes back cap from his eyes.) Codfonnd 
this cap. Helend's father's head is as big as the giant Jack 
killed. I wish I could see that Tracy girl. "Well, she doesn't 
think I ab rich, and that's codsoling. If I wed her it will be on 
by owd merits. Heigho ! how long ab I to be in this fix? 
(Knock outside.) That is Betty, the baid, after the tub, I sup- 
pose. Cobe id. 

Enter Leonard Appleton. 

Leonard (runs up to Alex, and shakes him by the hand). — By 
the piper ! it is indeed my old friend. Glad to see you. But 
(starts back, and laughs) you look like a mummy. What the 
dickens ails you ? 

Alex. — A cold id the head. But, as Helen says, it's dothing; 
well sood wear off. I ab so glad you thought enough of me to 
cobe. 

Leonard. — Mrs. Graham said you were not very well, but I 
did not expect to find you so completely metamorphosed. Why, 
man, you look like an old fossil. You must rally, and come out 
of this in time for Miss Tracy's ball. By the way, your pretty 
sister-in-law is anxious for you to make a favorable impression 
upon this belle of the season. Have you ever seen her? 

Alex. — I have dot. But it seebs to me 1 heard that you had 
pretedsions in that direction. I don't want to sta'd id your way. 

Leonard (aside). — Xo such '• girl of the period " for me. (To 
Alex.) I confess that for awhile I was dazzled; but, my old 
chum, if ever I marry, I want a wife with a heart. 

Alex. — A heart ! I don't understand. But before we edter 
idto details please step id the other roob (pointing to entrance), 



82 A COLD IN TBE HEAD. 

and look abong by baggage ; you'll see a box of old Havadas. I 
bought them id Paris. Bring it; and while we edjoy a good 
sboke we cad talk it all over. 

Leonard (starts toward entrance).— A-l-l right. 

Alex.— Oh, dot there; this way (points to opposite side) 9 
there, just id the dext roob. 

Leonard. — I see ! I see ! I will be back directly ; and then, 
old boy, see if I don't open your eyes. {Exit Leonard. 

Alex. — WTiat the dation does he bead? (Knock heard out- 
side.) That girl after the tub, do doubt. Cobe id. 

Enter Miss Tract and Julia Kesgrove. 

Alex, (draws cap over his eyes, and turns to audience, 
aside). — Here's a pretty snap for a young mad to be id. (Looks 
furtively round.) "Walk id. 

Julia (exchanges glances with Isabel. To Alex s ). — Is Mrs. 
Graham at home ? 

Alex, (impatiently), — Do, Biss. (Pulls gown closer about 
Mm.) 

Miss Tracy. — How very provoking ! What shall we do ! 

Julia. — 0h ; we can just drop a note ; there is writiug material 
on the table. (Miss Tracy points to Alex, wamingly.) 
Pshaw! Tou needn't mind the old gentlemen. He is Mrs. 
Graham's father. I know him ; and, though he is a clever old 
man, he is deaf as a post, and almost blind in the bargain. He'll 
not notice us. 

Miss Tracy. — "What a horrid old creature! Such people 
haven't any business to live. 

Julia. — Why, Isabel Tracy ! How can you talk so ? 

Alex, (aside; starts with surprise, and pulls cap down). — 
Egad! and this is Biss Tracy! £k> busidess to live, hey! 
(Groans.) 

Julia (advances a step ; speaks in a very loud tone). — I want 
to write a note to Mrs. Graham, if you please. 

Alex, (nods, and waves his hand in direction of table ; gruffly). 
— Aye ! aye ! (Aside.) I'll keep up the bistake. (Groans.) 

Miss Tracy. — What an odious old bear ! Did you notice the 
splendid seal-ring on his finger? It makes me nervous to look at 



A COLD IN THE HEAD. 83 

the old thing. (They advance to the table, facing the audience ; 
Julia sits, and draws paper and pen toward her.) 

Julia. — Well, Miss Tracy, what shall I say ? 

Miss Tracy. — Oh, anything you like. Tell her we've been 
here, and are sorry she was away. (Yawns.) I wonder if the 
rich Alex, her brother-in-law, has come from abroad. 

Julia (writes). — I suppose so; at least I know Mrs. Graham 
looks for him to-day. 

Miss Tracy (approaches mirror). — Good heavens ! suppose he 
should come and find us here. (Arranges her hat, scarf, dress, 
etc.) Mercy ! I'm so sorry I didn't wear my beaded redingote. 
(Looks closer in glass.) And the crimps are nearly all out of my 
hair. Jule ! (Turns and views herself from side to side.) Do 
you think it is true that Alex. Graham is rich ; I mean sure 
enough rich f 

Julia. — Didn't Tom Jeffreys say he is worth half a million ? 
But, my goodness ! how can I write with you wriggling about in 
that style ? 

Miss Tracy (shrugs her shoulders). — Things like this are al- 
ways so exaggerated. Do you think, Jule, that it is worth my 
while to captivate this Alex. Graham ? I can't afford to throw 
myself away on a small fortune or be taken in by a humbug. 

Julia (laughs). — Are you not ashamed to be so mercenary? 
You horrid girl ! Pray, if you conclude to marry Mr. Alex. 
Graham's money, what will you do about Leonard Appleton ? I 
call it shabby treatment to throw him overboard after encourag- 
ing his attentions and making him spend twelve and fifteen dollars 
a night taking you to the opera and such places. 

Miss Tracy. — I couldn't think of wedding a poor lawyer and 
second-rate author whose manuscripts are returned * 'Respectfully 
declined.' 7 I thought, Jule, you knew me better. 
(While this conversation is going on, Alex, must mutter aside, 
and express surprise and disgust by various gestures.) 

Julia. — Leonard Appleton has a heart, if he has no fortune. 

Miss Tracy. — I can't help that; you know we society girls 
must look to the main chance. 
(Leonard appears at entrance in sight of the audience; but y unseen 

by Miss Tracy and Julia, expresses surprise in pantomime.) 



84 A COLD IN THE HEAD. 

Julia.— Don't talk so loud. (Looks toward Alex.) 

Miss Tracy.— Huniph ! Old Crunipy is deaf as a post, so you 
sav. [Looks toward Alex.) He must be asleep. See how he's 
curled up in that big chair. Ugh ! it makes me shiver to look at 
him. 

Julia. — I've heard that walls have ears. 

Alex, (aside). — Tes, add so have I. 

Miss Tracy (puts her hand in her pocket, withdraws it, and 
shakes out her handkerchief). — My stars! 

Julia — I never can finish this note, you keep up such a chatter- 
ing and moving about. What are you fumbling in your pocket 
for? 

Miss Tracy (alarmed).— I do believe I left that bottle of rouge 
on the counter at Brown's drag-store ; and what am I to do for a 
complexion at the matinee this afternoon ? 

Julia. — We can call for it as we go home. 

Miss Tracy (contemptuously). — That tvould be nice — to ask if 
Miss Tracy had left a bottle of rouge on the counter ! Ko ; I can 
pinch my cheeks as I enter the theater; and if any of the fellows 
are standing round, they'll think it is the exercise of walking. 
Lawd ! how men can be fooled ! 

Alex, (aside) — And so cad wobed sobetibes. 

Miss Tracy. — If you've finished the note, we will go. I forgot 
to bring my cigarette case, and am dying for a smoke. 

Alex, (starts, aside). — Adother leaf udfolded — she smokes! 

(Leonard outside, in view of audience, unseen by Miss Tracy 

and Julia makes signs to Alex.) 

Alex, (aside). — This is rich. But I bust be discreet. Bub's 
the word. (Groans and shuffles in the chair.) 

Julia (to Miss Tracy).— Wait one minute till I explain to Old 
Grumpy, as you call him. (Approaches Alex.) Please tell Mrs. 
Graham (pitches her voice to its highest key) that we — 

Miss Tracy (runs to Julia and catches her dress-skirt). 
D-o-n-'t, for mercy's sake, stand bawling at that old bag of 
bones. Minette is waiting to try on my ball-dress. 

Julia. — All right. Mrs. Graham will understand when she 
sees the note. [ Exeunt, with mock rested to Alex. 

Enter Leonard. 



A COLD IN TEE HEAD. 85 

Leonard {runs up to Alex, and drags Mm up). — Give us your 
hand, old boy. 

Alex, (looks close in Leon, 's face). — You heard it all ! (Claps 
Ms hands gleefully.) I saw you, but did dot dare bake a botion. 
(Catches Leonard, wMrls M?n round the room, stumbles against 
a package on the floor, picks up bottle of rouge and holds it up.) 

you beautiful thing ! (Kisses bottle.) 

Leonard. — Shake hands again, old fellow. But didn't we 
catch the artful minx ¥ 
Alex. — Did n't we though ? Forever, frob dow till dever, will 

1 say blessings od a bad cold. (They clasp each other and whirl 
round the stage.) 

CURTAIN. 



SCENE II. — A tastefully arranged reception-room. Isabel 

Tracy standing before a mirror, dressed in full party cos- 

tume. Minette (French maid) in attendance. 

Miss Tracy (looks over her shoulder to see the effect of her 
toilet ; walks forward). — Miunette ! you are a treasure ! My 
dress is a perfect fit ! (Stops as Minette arranges her sash, etc.) 
Is my complexion all right ? (Minette runs to table, takes puff- 
box, and approaches Miss- Tracy.) 

Minette. — Pardon! s'il vous .plait; only von leetle touch is 
necessaire. (Touches Miss Tracy's face lightly.) Dere; it is 
parfeect ; one grand feenish. Ma'inselle vil be ze belle of ze ball. 
Suparb ! beauteeful ! (Stands back and looks admirably at 
Miss Tracy.) 

Miss Tracy (taps Musette ivith her fan). — There; thatwilldo. 
!Now hide all the cosmetics. (Minette obeys.) Go down, and 
the instant Mrs. Graham's party arrive invite them to this room. 

Minette. — Oui, ma'mseile. (Courtesies.) \Exit Minette. 

Miss Tracy (looks in the glass, and comes forward). — Yes, 
Minnette is right ; I am beautiful ; and if Mr. Alex. Graham re- 
sists me this evening, his heart is harder than the nether millstone. 
A pretty woman always feels her power. 
Enter Julia. 

Julia (runs up to Miss Tracy and embraces her).—0 you 



86 A COLD IN THE HEAD. 

lovely creature ! Your dress is splendid. Why, Minette is a 
jewel. Oh, you are too sweet ! (Kisses Miss Tracy.) 

Miss Tracy.— Sweet enough, do you think, to captivate the 
rich Mr. Graham? 

Julia- — He can not resist you, Isabel, any more than he can 
live without breathing. But tell me (draivs closer), what will 
you do with poor Appleton? 

Miss Tracy (pats her arm round Julia's waist). — I am 
you mentioned the subject. But I must talk fast, for the Grahams 
will be here before long. I told Minette to meet them and bring 
them to this room — 

Julia (grasps Miss Tracy's arm). — Not Mr. Graham ! Tou 
. surely would not invite him into your boudoir. 

Miss Tracy. — Why not, Miss Prude? He knows that his 
sister-in-law and I are intimate, and there is nothing like first 
impressions. It will make him feel at home, right in the begin- 
ning. I am entitled to privileges, as it is my ball. Oh, but I 
intend to make him think I am the most artless creature. I'll 
make him believe that it was all a mistake about Minette 
asking him into this room, and smooth it over with the sweetest 
attention. Law, Julia, you do not know what fools men are ! 

Julia. — But you'll never succeed in makmg a fool of Appleton. 
Tour flirtation with him has been too serious, and he's not a man 
to be trifled with. 

Miss Tracy.— To tell the truth, I am afraid he will give me 
trouble when he finds I am going to marry Alex. Graham. Now 
(draivs near Julia) this is what I wish you to do. Appleton is 
a very good catch ; indeed I'd marry him if I had not determined 
to secure a richer husband — 

Julia. — But— 

Miss Tracy. — Don't interrupt me. As I said, Appleton is 
worth angling for. He admires you, and if you play your cards 
right, you can win him. 

Julia (starts hack, clasps her hands, and rolls up her eyes). 

Why, Isabel Tracy, are you going crazy ? 

Miss Tracy. — No; I mean what I say. This very night, after we 
go down to the ball-room, you can make Appleton ask you to 
marry him, if you will. Why, gracious ! girl (stamps her foot) ; 



A COLD IN THE HEAD. 87 

you have only to pretend that you are unhappy. Appleton is so 
good-hearted he never could stand to see a woman in trouble. 
Let him think you are pining. Betray in some interesting man- 
ner that he is the object, the one who has stolen your heart. Oh, 
there are a thousand ways to induce a fellow to propose, if I can 
only make you take the right view of it. Then, you see, as soon 
as he pops the question, all you have to do is to give me a hint, 
and then I'll go into hysterics, and be indignant, and tell him 
that "hell has no fury like a woman scorned " (gesticulating 
theatrically), and all that sort of thing. Don't you see how easy 
it is ? Do this for me {coaxing Julia), and as soon as I am 
married to Graham I will present you with a splendid bridal 
outfit, as then I will have command of any amount of money. 

Julia. — I am afraid it is not so easy as you say it is — 
* Miss Tracy (interrupts Julia). — You don't know until you 
begin. Only say you will try. (Coaxes Julia.) That's a darling. 
Promise. (Voices outside.) Dear! dear! They are coming. 
(Puts her hand over Julia's lips as she is about to speak.) 
S-h-u-s-h ! Mum is the word. Kemember, 111 depend on you to 
take Appleton off of— 
Enter Mrs. Graham and Alex. Miss Tracy approaches Mrs. 

Graham, attempts to grasp her hand and embrace her. Mrs. 

Graham draws bach. 
' Mrs. Graham (sternly).— Miss Tracy; a-h-e-m. 

Miss Tracy (aside). — What does this sudden coolness mean ? 
It was always " dear Isabel " before. ' I'll see. 

Mrs. Graham. — In the first place, I wish to apologize for my 
brother, who failed to send a reply to your polite invitation to 
your ball this evening. True etiquette demanded that he should 
call in person, but ever since his return he has been quite ill with 
a bad cold, and therefore — 

Miss Tracy (graciously interrupts Mrs. Graham; she ad- 
vances, and holds out her hand to Alex). — No apology necessary, 
I assure you. Allow me, Mr. Graham, to welcome you back to 
home and all you love. 

Alex, (aside). — It is well I found her out. She is confoundedly 
pretty. (To Miss Tracy; bows, and takes her hand.) Thank 
you, Miss Tracy. 



88 A COLD IN TEE HEAD. 

Miss Tracy (to Mrs. Graham).— How charming you look! 
I am happy to number you and your brother among my guests. 
But where is your husband? He surely did not permit you to 
come without him. 

Mrs. Graham (stiffly).— I did not come with the intention to 
participate in the evening's entertainment, as you may infer by 
my dress. I expect to keep my brother company. 

Miss Tracy (aside).— What does it all mean? (To Mrs. 
Graham.) I do not understand — 

Alex, (advances).— I came home yesterday, Miss Tracy, with 
a bad cold, and have been a martyr to steam and stews until this 
morning. As fate would have it, I chanced to be playing the 
part of Old Crumpy when you and that lady (points to Julia) 
entered my sister's room, and was compelled to hear your con- 
versation. 

Julia (aside, clasps her hands).— Sood. heavens ! "What will 
Isabel do? 

Alex, (produces bottle of rouge). — And as you chanced to drop 
this package upon the floor, I was fortunate enough to rind it ; 
for, if you will remember, I was bundled up in my uncle's arm- 
chair. 

Miss Tracy (aside).— So this is what's the matter ! Well, 
they sha'n't scare me. (To Alex. ) I am sorry you troubled 
yourself. The package was of no consequence whatever. (Draivs 
herself up defiantly.) 

Mrs. Graham (comes forward). — You seem to have changed 
your mind, Miss Tracy ; but if it is of no consequence to you, it 
has been of immense consequence to Alex., as it has enabled him 
to appreciate your charms (sneers) at their real value. 

Miss Tracy (aside). — I have Appleton left, thank goodness ! 
(To Alex.) Your vanity, sir, is only equalled by your impudence. 
One to hear you and your delectable sister talk would suppose 
that I, Miss Tracy, have some designs upon you for the purpose 
of entrapping you into matrimony. I refer you (ivith lofty dis- 
dain) to Mr. Leonard Appleton, as he is the gentleman who has 
a prior claim to my hand and heart ; and no doubt when he 
knows of this premeditated insult he will call you to account. 

Mrs. Graham. — Mr. Appleton might at one time have had a 



THE WEDDING DAY. 89 

claim to your hand; he certainly never had one to your heart, 
as you made him understand distinctly ; for, incredible as it may 
appear, lie was also an unwilling listener to the conversation 
yesterday between you and your friend ; as my brother had, a 
moment before you came in, sent him to the adjoining room to 
bring a box of cigars, and he could not help hearing all you said. 

Julia (aside). — Then her cake is dough indeed ! 

Mlnette. — Mon Dieu ! (Miss Tracy hows her head, and covers 
her face icith her lace handkerchief.) 

Mrs. Graham. — I am glad to see you still have some feeling. 
This has been a bitter lesson; but it may prove a salutary one, 
and teach not only yon, but every girl who is a flirt, the truth of 
the old adage, u Between two stools one is sure to come to the 
ground." 

C UBTAIX. 



THE WEDDING DAY, 

OR, 

"BETTEK LATE THAN NEVER." 

By Ellen Pickering. 
(See note to dialogue entitled « THE UNCLE," page 28). 



CHABACTEBS. 



Mr. Placid. Mr. Pepper. 

Mr. Worthy. Mrs. Kuffle. 



SCEXE. — Mr. Placid seated, quietly reading a book. Mr. 
Pepper pacing the room impatiently . 

Pepper (stopping suddenly, looks angrily at Placid, then talks 
to himself in a loud aside.) — Was there ever such a stone? a 
stockfish ? Has not moved hand or foot, or raised his eyes from 
his book for the last half-hour ; and some call him a quiet man, 



90 THE WEDDING DAY. 

in praise. I hate your quiet men. An oaf, a dolt, an idiot ! I 
have been in a fever from the moment Kuffle died, and left us 
joint guardians to his children. There now, there is the clock 
chiming the half-hour, and the wedding was to have taken place 
precisely at nine, and the party assembled a quarter before. I 
told Placid just now that it was half an hour after the time, but 
he paid no heed to my words. As well talk to the deaf old house 
dog in the yard : better, for he might wag his tail to make believe 
he heard and understood. I wonder if I hallooed Fire in his ear 
if he would sit on reading there like an automaton. I have a 
great mind to try. I hate your quiet men : they always put me 
in a passion. Ha ! who comes with such a hurried step ? 

Enter Mrs. Ruffle in great agitation. 

Mrs. Ruffle.— Oh, Mr. Pepper ! Oh, Mr. Placid ! 

Pepper. — My dear Mrs. Ruffle, what is the matter? 

Mrs. Ruffle.— Oh, shocking ! dreadful ! it will be the death 
of me. I am sure I shall never survive the shame— the disgrace. 
And poor dear Jemima. (Fans herself furiously with her hand- 
leer chief.) 

Pepper.— My dear madam, what is the matter? Has my 
ward, Miss Ruffle, eloped ? 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Oh, dear ! worse, worse ! 

Pepper.— Worse, my dear Mrs. Ruffle ? worse ? Is the break- 
fast all spoilt ? i 

Mrs. Ruffle (pettishly).— Lb,, Mr. Pepper, how can you be 
thinking of eating when such an insult has been offered to my 
poor dear sensitive child ? It is enough to make poor dear, dead 
Mr. Ruffle come out of his grave to see how calmly you bear this 
wrong to his innocent, eldest daughter. He would never have 
appointed you guardian to his children, if he could have- thought 
you would act in this way. I have a great mind to fight him 
myself, poor, feeble woman as I am— there are no men nowadays! 
poor dear Mr. Ruffle was the last of them. My daughter! oh," 
my daughter ! But you have no pity for a mother's feelings' 
thinking about breakfast, indeed. (She holds her handkerchief 
to her eyes.) 

. Pepper.— My dear Mrs. Ruffle, what is the matter? Only tell 



THE WEDDING DAY. 91 

me who has wronged you, and then see what I won't do. Peter 
Pepper was never yet accused of want of spirit. 

Mrs. Kuffle. — Oh, Jemima ! poor dear Jemima ! 

Pepper. — What of my ward ? I am dying with impatience. 
Has she fainted, or torn her lace veil ? She has not eloped, you 
say. 

Mrs. Kuffle. — Eloped, indeed ! I wish she had; it would 
have served him right ; but there is no one to elope with, and she 
would not hear of such a thing. Could you believe it ? Instead 
of being here at half-past eight as he promised last night, Mr. 
Worthy is not come yet ; and it is more than half-past nine. 

Pepper. — Worthy not come ! shameful, disgraceful ! I wish 
I had my pistols here, he should not escape. 

Mrs. Ruffle (soothed). — I was sure you would feel for me, 
Mr. Pepper. There is everybody wondering and asking where 
the bridegroom is, and then whispering together. And there are 
the bridesmaids all pouting, and Jemima, poor dear Jemima ! — 
it is well I would not let her wait in the damp, cold church. As 
it is only a minute's walk, no need she should go till Mr. "Worthy 
comes. 

Pepper. — !No, indeed! shameful, disgraceful, of Worthy. 

Mrs. Kuffle. — So it is, Mr. Pepper. The guests will be com- 
ing to breakfast presently, and then the tale will fly all over the 
country. 

Pepper. — What have you done, my dear Mrs. Kuffle? Have 
you sent any one to look after him ? 

Mrs. Kuffle. — The groom rode up to the top of the hill, but 
could not see anything of him. 

Pepper. — You should have kept him last night, when you had 
him. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — He would go back last night because his aunt 
was ill ; but promised to be here by half-past eight this morning. 

Pepper.— Promised, my dear Mrs. Kuffle ! a young man's 
promises — you should have been wiser than that, I see it all 
plainly now : I thought there was a little coolness yesterday. He 
is off— clean off— goue to the Midnight Sun, or some uncome-at- 
able place, or he may have started in the new Cunard Steamer- 
she was to sail to day. 



92 TEE WEDDING DAY. 

Mrs. Ruffle (in dismay),— Bo you really think he is gone off, 
and won't come back ? 

Pepper. — How can I think otherwise ? 

Mrs. Ruffle.— Oh, dear ! what will poor Jemima do ? And 
snch a nice, handsome yonng man too ; and such a fine estate. 
But you don't think he has really gone for good ? 

Pepper (shaking Ms head). — Depend upon it, he is: I have 
known many such cases. There was young Dashaway just the 
same : bridal party all assembled in full dress— -bride in blushes 
and orange flowers — the Bishop impatient — the breakfast wait- 
ing — but no bridegroom, there he was going as fast as an express 
train could take him. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — And did he come back? 

Pepper. — Three years after with an Italian Signora as his wife. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Shocking, abominable ! There ought to be 
some especial punishment for such wicked doings. But you don't 
often hear of such things. 

Pepper. — Not often hear of such things, my dear Mrs. Ruffle ? 
why, they happen every day ? I could bring you a hundred such 
instances. There was Singleton Smith, a fine handsome young 
man with no end of money, passed the church door — absolutely 
passed the church door — on the very morning on his way to 
California. The poor bride saw him from the window, and was 
in her grave within a week. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Oh dear! you quite terrify me. How shock- 
ing! Poor dear Jemima! Can nothing be done, Mr. Pepper? 
You are her guardian, you know : and you, too, Mr. Placid, stand- 
ing in the place of my poor deceased husband. Can nothing be 
done? 

Placid (calmly looking up from his look). — Done about what, 
my dear Mrs. Ruffle ? 

Mrs. Ruffle (pettishly). — Done about what, indeed! why 
about Mr. Worthy to be sure. Have you not heard what we were 
talking about? 

Placid. — I heard you were talking, but as it was not to me, I 
did not pay much attention to what you said. 

Mrs. Ruffle (sharply).— You never pay attention to anything, 
Mr. Placid ; one might be hanged, drowned, shot, burned, before 



THE WEDDiya DAY. 93 

your face, and you would never find it out. The bridegroom is 
not come. TThat is to be done ? 

Placid. — Wait patiently till he arrives. 

Pepper (aside). — Patiently, patiently ! I hate your patient 
men; they always put me in a passion. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Wait patiently, indeed ! We have waited more 
than an horn*, as you see by the clock; and what is to be done now ? 

Placid. — Wait a little while longer : he will be here presently, 
I daresay, and all be right. 

Pepper (aside). — u Let them alone, and they'll come home, 
and bring their tails behind them." I hate people who say it will 
be right presently ; they always put me in a passion. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Presently, indeed! It daresay he won't come 
at all. 

Placid. — I daresay he will, my dear Mrs. Ruffle, only don't 
get impatient and get yourself in a flurry. 

Mrs. Ruffle.— Get impatient and put myself in a flurry! Is a 
bride to be kept waiting in this way! It is a shame! a disgrace! 
she will be the talk of the whole country. As Jemima's guardian, 
you ought to call Mr. Worthy to account for keeping us all wait- 
ing in this way. 

Placid. — I daresay he could not help it, poor young man, and 
will give some good reason for the delay. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — That's just what Jemima says; but he can give 
no good reason, I am sure. 

Placid. — If Jemima says so, you may be sure it is all right. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — I am sure it is all wrong; but you have no con- 
si deration — no sympathy; you cannot understand a mother's 
feelings (putting her handkerchief to her eyes). Poor dear Jem- 
ima! She has no father or brother to protect her: if my poor 
dear husband were but alive— (Sobs). 

Placid. — Don't distress yourself, my dear Mrs. Ruffle; Mr. 
Worthy will be here in a few minutes, I daresay, and explain all 
to your satisfaction : remember his place is six miles off. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — And what is six miles to a lover? 

Pepper. — Right, Mrs. Ruffle; what is six miles to a lover? I 
hate your slow men, they always put me in a passion. He should 
have flown on the wings of love. 



94 THE WEDDING DAY. 

Placid.— I daresay he is coming as fast as horses will bring 
him. There may have been a little accident, which has made him 
late. I thought I heard a carriage just now. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Late, indeed! 

Pepper . — Late ! Depend upon it, he is off, and will never come 
back at all. 

Enter the Bridegroom in haste. 

'Worthy. — A thousand pardons, my dear Mrs. Ruffle, for keep- 
ing you waiting. 

Mrs. Ruffle.— Yes, waiting, indeed! Poor dear Jemima is not 
accustomed to be kept waiting : it is little short of an insult to 
her. 

Pepper. — It is an insult to the whole party, Mr. "Worthy — an 
insult to her mother, to her guardians, to her bridesmaids, and 
to all the guests. "We all feel the indignity. 

Worthy. — I am exceedingly sorry — 

Mrs. Ruffle {interrupting him). — So you ought to be, keep- 
ing every one waiting, and putting poor dear Jemima in such an 
agony ; and then my feelings too. 

Pepper. — And all our feelings. 

Worthy. — I am very sorry indeed ; but how could I help it ? 
I— 

Pepper {interrupting him). — You should have got up earlier. 
Oversleep yourself on a wedding day ! 

"Worthy. — I have not been in bed since three, but 

Pepper (interrupting him again). — You should not have been 
so long dressing ; I hate your dandies, they always put me in a 
passion. 

Worthy. — I was only half an hour dressing for the wedding; 
but my aunt 

Pepper. — Should not have been placed in competition with 
your bride, her mother, her guardians, and all the guests. 

Worthy.— But 

Pepper and Mrs. Ruffle (together). — There should have been 
no but in the case. 

Worthy (in despair).— Will you hear me out ? I am late, 
but 



A SOCIETY FOR DOING GOOD. 95 

Pepper and Mrs. Ktjffle (together). — Too late by an hour. 

"Worthy. —I own it, but my aunt was supposed to be dying, 
and T could not leave her till pronounced out of danger. Jemima 
would have blamed me had I done so. 

Mrs. Ruffle. — Why not send and say so ? 

Worthy. — I did when I found I could not arrive in time, but 
by some mischance, which I had not time to learn, I outstripped 
my messenger. I hope now, my dear madam, you and Jemima 
will acquit me of blame. I am late, but 

Placid. — Say no more about it,^Worthy, but lead in Mrs. Ruffle. 
I said you would come presently, and give a good reason for the 

delay. You are late certainly, but — you know the proverb 

(nodding to Pepper) . 

[Exeunt; TTorthy leading Mrs. Ruffle, followed by Placid. 

Pepper (muttering as he goes out). — Proverbs, indeed ! I 
hate your men who are always in the right, quoting proverbs to 
prove it : they always put me in a passion. [Exit. 

CURTAIN. 



A SOCIETY FOR DOING GOOD. 

By H. Elliott McBride. 



CHARACTERS. 



Mrs. Susannah Riddle, a ividow. 
Mrs. Keziah Raymond, a widow. 
Miss Mervilda Marigold, an old maid. 
Miss Jemima Jenkins, a poetical old maid. 



SCE^NE. — A room. All seated engaged in sewing. 
Mrs. Riddle. — It was a purty good idee tew organize a S'ciety 
far the purpose of doni' good. We hev already made up a con- 
sid'able pile of clothin' fur the poor people of the neighborhood. 



96 A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 

Mrs. Raymond. — And a person allers feels so much better too 
when the said person is doin' somethin' fur till relieve sufTerin' 
humanity. I allers come to these meetins with a great deal of 
alacrity, and so forth, and I think we ought all to come in the 
same way. 

Miss Marigold.— Yes, that's so. "We hev the poor all around 
us ; and who is goin' to put garments upon their backs and pan- 
taloons upon then — upon their — limbs, if we don't do it? Yes, 
we are engaged in a glorious work, and the single men of the 
neighborhood will certainly take notice of what we are doin'. 

Miss Jenkins.— 

Yes, let us work, and work, and work away, 

Fur we hev the poor around us purty nigh every day. 

Miss Raymond. — 0, Jemima ! you do say sich heart touchim* 
poetry. It seems that you can say poetry without any diffi kilty 
whatever. 

Miss Jenkins. — Yes, I believe I am gifted in that way. And 
I allers endeavor to feel thankful that I am so gifted. It may be 
that I shill some day be able with my poetry to move a nation 
to tears. 

Mrs. Riddle. — "Wall, neow, it would look kinder funny if yeou 
should git the hull United States tew cryin' at one time. Wouldn't 
it make a hullabaloo ? 

Miss Jenkins. — Susannah, you do not understand much about 
poetry and sich things ; poetry is not a thing to make a person 
cry and holler out loud jist like a boy that had got whipped fur 
stealin' apples. On the contrary, poetry is a thing which moves 
you to tears silently, as it were. Poetry is a thing which has a 
subduin' and a softenin' influence upon a person. 
Poetry which is got up in the right way, 
WiU make a feller feel soft fur one whole day. 

Mrs. Riddle. — Then yeou ought tew git up some po'try and 
read it tew Ebenezer Williams. He needs softenin' deown wuss 
than anybody I knows on. He has a bad, wicked heart, and the 
way he swears it is tremendous. 

Mrs. Raymond. — Those people which hold in their hand the 
power fur till do good, are great people. You are sich a person, 
Jemima, fur by your po'try you kin do a heap of good. Jemima, 



A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 97 

you are a poetater and you should be looked up to by all the 
surrouudin' nations. 

Miss Jenkins. — Yes, I know I am gifted; and I feel thankful 
fur it. I know I hold in my hand a wonderful power. But I 
feci the responsibility of my position. All those people which 
write poetry occupy a responsible position in society. If there 
are no objections I will rise and read a poem which I writ last 
night. 

Mrs. Raymond. — I'm sure I do not raise any objections. Fur 
my part I think we should allers be willin' fur till listen to the 
readin' of poetry, fur I think poetry is calculated fur till do us all 
a vast amount of good. By all means let us hear the poem. 

Mrs. Kiddle. — Wall, I expect the piece of poetry which yeou 
hev writ is purty good, but fur my part I don't keer nothin' 
abeout it. I'd a heap rather we'd all hurry up and git this sewin' 
done. This shirt which we are a makin' fur Bob Long ought tew 
be finished, fur Sam Jackson sez as heow he hasn't got no shirt 
but jist an old one which will skurcely stick together. 

Miss Jenkins. — Susannah, I fear that the love of poetry and 
the fine arts does not dwell in your constitution. But, of course, 
I do not want to read my poem unless you are all agreed fur it. 

Miss Marigold. — We are engaged in a glorious work. We 
are puttin' clothes upon them which need clothes. But we must 
pause in our work fur till listen to the poem which has been writ 
by sister Jenkins. It may do us good ; it may cause an uprisin' 
in our bosoms ; and it may cause us to go forward to our work 
with greater power and swifter velocity. 

Miss Jenkins.— But I feel delikit about readin' my poem if 
anybody objects. It appears that Susannah Eiddle doesn't care 
about hearin' the poem, and therefore I feel delikit about read- 
ing it. 

Mrs. Kiddle. — Oh, go ahead and read the poem if yeou want 
tew. There ain't no use in makin' so much fuss abeout it. We 
could hev it read while yeou are talkin abeout it. I don't keer 
nothin' abeout the piece of poetry one way nor t'other, but I 
think we ought tew hurry up and git this shirt made for Bob. Long. 

Miss Jenkins. — It seems to me that some people are snappier 
than they need to be. People that ain't poetaters themselves 



98 A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 

oughtn't to git cranky and feel jealous toward them which are 
poetaters. 

Miss Marigold.— Let us hev the poem, Jemima. ¥e are en- 
gaged in a glorious work. I suppose a gloriouser work was 
never got up. I feel purty sure that the men sect will look on 
encouragin'ly and also approvin'ly. Tes, Jemima, let us hear 
the poem, and it may encourage us in our woik. 

Mi&s Jenkins.— Well, what do you say ? Shill I read my poem 
or shill I not ? Of course if there are any here who don't want 
to hear it I shill feel delikit about readin' it. 

Mrs. Kiddle (aside).— Sakes alive ! she's talkin' about that 
poem ag'in. (To Miss Jenkins.) Oh, yes, I'd advise yeou tew 
read it and git it off yeour mind. 

Mrs. Raymond. — Oh, yes, Jemima, do read the poem. I am 
wantin' to hear it awful bad. You are a poetater of great power 
and you ought to be looked up to by everybody, fur you can do 
a vast amount of good in this world. 

Miss Jenkins (rising). — Then I shill perceed to read it. My 
voice will probably be a little unsteady, but I hope you will ex- 
cuse that. It always makes me feel somewhat weak and trimbly 
to read my own pieces of poetry. Now I shill begin. The name 
of the poem is 

WORK WHILE THE SUN IS SHLNIN*. 
Work while the sun is shinin' 

Work while it is called to-day ; 
For after awhile the sun will go down, 

And then you cannot make the hay. 

Work while the sun is ehinin' 

Just like the bumble bee ; 
Get up in the morning and work away, 

For after awhile the night will come on and then you cannot see. 

Work while the sun is shinin* 

Time is flying and soon it will be gone 
Let the needle fly swiftly through the cloth 

For after sundown the night comes on. 

The horse is a useful animal, 

He has four long legs and a head ; 
The horse can pull a big load on a wagon 

Or he can pull a big load on a sled. ....__ 



A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 99 

Does the horse waste his time doin' nothin' ? 

Does he sit around and do nothin' all day ? 
No, the horse is a noble animal, 

And he doesn't sit around all day. 

There now lies a great work before us ; 

Shill we do that work pretty soon ? 
Shill we do that work right away, 

Or wait till the light of the moon ? 

"We now all around are arousin'; 

We're goin' to rise up and do good ; 
Don't you think that's proper and becomin ?' 

Don't you think we're doin' as we should? 

The horse is a good institution, 

The cow is a useful one too. 
We live in an age of progression. 

And now I will bid you adieu. 

This piece it was writ with a pencil ; 

I writ it last night by the fire ; 
I sat up till half -past twelve o'clock, 

And I writ it last night by the fire. 

(Sits down and takes up her sewing.) 

Mrs. Kiddle. — And when yeou got done yeou ought tew hev 
turned areonnd and stuck it intew the fire. 

Miss Jenkins. — Some people can't write poetry themselves 
and it makes them hoppin' mad when other people write it and 
thereby git's ahead of them. Oh, it's a dreadful think to be -so 
envious ! 

Mrs. Kaymond. — 0, Jemima, that is a beautiful and also an 
exquizitical poem, and I am so glad you hev read it. It will 
cheer me up in my lonely hours and also make me sew with great 
alacrity upon the garments which we are now a makin'. 

Miss Marigold. — Jemima, I wish to add my praises to the 
article which has jist been read. It is a heart touchiu' poem and 
it is calculated to stir us up in the glorious work in which we are 
now engaged. Could we git into a gloriouser work if we should 
seek all our lives fur sich a one ? Xo, my sisters, we could not, 
and the people around us, particularly the male sect, will gaze 
upon us with awe-inspired countenances. Some of the male sect 
are now beginnin' to look upon us with considerable interest. 



100 ' A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 

Martin Ray said to Deacon Wexford t'other day that we must be 
noble women when we will go to work and work fur the poor 
around us. He said most women wanted to spend all their time 
and money in gittin' clothes fur themselves. And, sisters, I'll 
tell you a secret. Martin Kay has called at our house twice 
since this Society was started. 

Miss Jenkins.— And he has come twice to see me. He also 
likes my poetry. He says I ought to continue to write and I'll 
become famous pretty soon. He said some other things too, 
which wouldn't be proper fur me to make public. 

Miss Marigold.— I don't believe he has been over to see you 
at all. He don't care nothin' about you. Leastwise he said 
somethin' of that kind to me. You are just pretendin' that he has 
been over to see you, so as to get me mad and to tell him to stop 
comin'. I know you, Jemima Jenkins. I know what you'd do. 
You'd say a'most anything to git a beau. That 's the reason you 
took to writin' poetry. You thought you'd ketch somebody that 
way. And sich poetry as it is too ! It amt nothin' but trash. I 
heerd a man talkin' about your poetry t'other day, and he 
laughed awful hard and said it was the awfulest poetry he ever 
heard. 

Miss Jenkins {rising and throwing down her sewing).— I hev 

endured this as long as I can endure it. Sisters, can I sit here 

and be vituperated by sich an old maid as Mervilda Marigold ! 

Miss Marigold. — I ain't an old maid. Don't say that again. 

I ain't as old as you are, and I don't tell lies. 

Miss Jenkins (continuing). — I am full of indignation. I can 
skurcely contain myself. I feel like springin' upon Mervilda 
Marigold and tearhV her limb from limb and branch from branch. 
Was ever a woman so foully dealt with — so shamefully handled — 
so cruelly — so cruelly knocked around as I have been this even- 
ing? I thirst for revenge. Wbat has Mervilda said ? Mervilda 
has said that Mr. Ray has not visited me. Mervilda has also 
said that I tell lies. Can I endure sich an ontpourin' of slander? 
But I will restrain myself. I am a poetater and it becomes poe- 
taters to stand aloof from common people and not mingle with 
them. I understand my position and I shill treat Mervilda 
Marigold with silent contempt. (Sits down with great dignity.) 



A SOCIETY FOB DOING GOOD. 101 

Mrs. Kiddle.— I hev a bean too. He commenced a coinin' 
tew see me since this S'ciety started. 

Mrs. Raymond. — Susannah Riddle, yon onght to be ashamed 
of yourself, far till be talkin ' abont beaux. Hezekiah Riddle 
hasn't been dead more'n six months, and I think yon onght to 
wait awhile before receivin' company. 

• Mrs. Riddle. — Oh, but you know this is a very lonely world. 
I hain't nobody tew keep me company but ony five children, and 
it is but nateral fur me tew be lookin' forward tew the time when 
I shill be again united tew a good and useful man. Hezekiah 
was an excellent partner and he was a good provider too, but he 
is gone, poor, dear man, and it aiu't doin' him no injustice tew be 
lookin' around for another companion. 

Mrs. Raymond. — May I ask who the gentleman is that is 
visitin' you? 

Mrs. Riddle. — Yes, I don't mind tellin' yeou. It is Daniel 
Dover. 

Mrs. Raymond (springing up), — Daniel Dover comin' to see 
you ! It's false ! He is comin' to see me and he despises you. 

Mrs. Riddle. — Wall, neow, Keziah, yeou needn't cut up no 
shines abeout it. When a man is coram' tew see me I reckon I am 
cognizant of the fact. I aint one of 'em as lets my temper rise. 
If I was I wonld'nt allow you to jump up that way and call me 
names. S'posin' yeou sit down ag'in and keep cool. 

Mrs. Raymond. — You're jist tryin' fur till git Daniel away 
from me, but you shan't hev him. You pretend to be very 
industrious and try fur till make the men sect believe that you 
joiaed this S'ciety fur till help the poor. But I know you, 
Susannah Riddle, you just joined so as to ketch a beau. You 
old critter, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, running' after 
the men sect when Hezekiah Riddle hasn't been dead more'n six 
months. 

Mrs. Riddle (springing iip and dashing towards Mrs. Ray- 
mond). — I'll settle yeour business if I git a hold of yeou. (Mrs. 
Raymond runs out pursued by Mrs. Riddle.) 

Miss Marigold.— They're gone (giggles) He ! he ! Susannah 
has chased Keziah clean out of the house. (Pauses and awaits 
a reply from Miss Jenkins.) I say they're gone. Susannah has 



10 2 THE RECEPTION. 

chased Keziah clean out of the house. (Pauses again and awaits 
a reply.) Why don't you speak? 

Miss Jenkins.— I am a poetater and I consider myself above 
you. I do not want to mingle words with you. You ain't of no 
account. 

Miss Marigold.— Martin Kay thinks Lara purty nice, anyhow. 
I must go home fur he's coram' to-night. (Going.) ^ t 

Miss Jenkins (springing up).— Stop ! Don't say that again. 
' Tis false ! 

Miss Marigold.— Good-bye, old poetater. [Exit L. 

Miss Jenkins.— She's gone. I must go too and see about this. 
Can I give up Martin Ray? Never ! [Exit L. 

CURTAIN, 



THE RECEPTION ; 



OR, 

"A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED. " 

By Ellen Pickering. 
(See note to Dialogue entitled " THE UNCLE," page 28). 



CHARACTERS. 



Mr. Wyvill. Mrs. Harriet Wyyill. 

Mrs. Wyvill. Franklyn. 

Sir Frederick Thompson. 



SCEXE.— Mr. Wyvill, his Wipe and Mrs. Harriet Wyvill. 
Mr. Wyvill (looking up from an open letter before him). — 
Shameful imposture, truly ! I wonder who the hind frieud is 
who has written to inform us of it. It is well the news arrived 
in time. Tso wonder he was so urgent to have the wedding at 
once — so impatient at any delay. How could he have the face 
to seek my daughter's hand ! I suppose he thought in these se- 



THE BECEPTION. 103 

eluded parts we should never hear the truth ; nor should we but 
for this unknown friend. Poor Bessy ! 

Mrs. Wyvill. — Yes, poor Bessy, indeed ! I thought she 
would have cried her eyes out last night. Xot that she believes 
one word of the letter. 

Mrs, H. Wyvill. — ~$o wonder, poor thing. Who could hear 
him talk as he did, and suspect him of such baseness ? Oh ! the 
deceitfulness of men ! 

Mr. WYvfLL. — A thief, a swindler, an impostor ! and to think 
of his having nearly become my son-in-law. "Well for him he is 
not here. He will find out that he is discovered, I dare say, and 
keep far enough off. Better not let him cross my path. Ha ! 
who is that ? the impostor himself! 

Enter Franklyn, ivTio advances eagerly with outstretched hand, 
which no one takes, but all start up in surprise, and stare at 
the visitor. 

Franklyn (astonished). — What is the matter? My presence 
seems neither welcome nor expected. 

Mr. Wyvill. — You speak truth, sir, for once: you were not 
expected, and your absence would be preferred to your presence. 

Franklyn. — How so, my dear sir? What can you mean. I 
wrote Bessy word I should be here to-day, if possible. 

Mr. Wyvill. — How dare you "dear" me, sir? How dare 
you name poor Bessy ? 

Franklyn (alarmed). — Poor Bessy ! is she ill, sir? Tell me, 
I entreat you? Let me see her ? 

Mr. Wyvill. — See her ! you are more likely to see the con- 
stable. See poor Bessy, indeed ! 

Mrs. Wyvill. — See poor Bessy, indeed ! 

Mrs. H. Wyvill.— See poor Bessy, indeed ! 

Franklyn. — Poor Bessy again : what can this mean ? 

Mr. Wyvill.— Ask yourself. 

Franklyn. — I am utterly at a loss to comprehend it. As the be- 
trothed of your daughter, I have a right to demand an explanation. 

Mr. Wyvill. — You would carry it with a high hand, young 
man, would you? Have a care, the constable is within call. 
You will never be son-in-law of mine. 



104 ! THE RECEPTION. 

Franklyn.— The constable, sir! What mean yon by this 
insult? • 

Mr. Wyvill.— Oh ! yon are going to play the bully ; but it 
won't do— it won't do, I can tell you. Yes; the constable to 
take off the swindler. 

Mrs. Wyvill.— The thief! 

Mrs. H. Wyvill. — The impostor! 

Franklyn. — Swindler, thief, impostor ! Sir, I insist on an 
explanation. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Tou had not better wait for that, but be of! at 
once. Depart in silence, or I shall have you arrested, immediately. 
To think of you deceiving me, and my innocent child ; and then 
coming to brazen it out. Be off. 

Franklyn. — Not till I know the meaning of your words : I 
have deceived no one. 

Mr. "Wyvill. — That is lie the hundredth. Did not you call 
yourself Charles Franklyn ? 

Mrs. Wyvill. — Did not you say yon were nephew to the 
Hon. Henry Lionkeart ? 

Mrs. H. Wyvill. — Did not you say you had an income of fif- 
teen thousand dollars a year ? 

Franklyn. — Yes, I said all these things; and I say them again. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Monstrous! 

Mrs. Wyvill.— Oh ! 

Mrs. H. Wyvill.— Oh! 

Mr. Wyvill. — Yillain! 

Mrs. Wyvill.— Wretch ! 

Mrs. H. Wyvill.— Monster! (all hold up their hands in liorror). 

Franklyn (aside).— Why they must be all struck with sudden 
madness. What a family I am going to enter ! If I loved Bessy 
one iota less, I would make my bow and be off. But she may be 
gone mad too: I will insist on seeing her. {Aloud.) Since I 
can obtain no explanation from you, sir, I must seek one from 
Bessy. 

Mr. Wyvill (stepping between him and the door).— Get you 
gone: you shall never see Bessy again. She was engaged to 
marry Charles Franklin, not Jeremiah Brown, alias Jones, alias 
Jenkins, and alias half a dozen names beside. 



THE RECEPTION. 105 

Franklyn. — Is this the way, sir, you seek to free yourself from 
an engagement no longer agreeable ? I heard it said you would 
prefer another as a son-in-law, but could not believe the report. 
Better have said so at once, than invented injurious lies. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Lies! Well for you if they were lies. Hold 
up your right hand — not so, without the glove. There, there is 
full proof of your guilt, and yet you pretend to look innocent. 

Franklyn (aside). — Madder than ever! (Aloud.) Proof of 
guilt in my hand ? There is nothing the matter with my hand. 
(Looks at it in every direction.) 

Mr. Wyvill. — That ring is witness enough against you. It 
was stolen from a jeweller six months ago. Ha, Ha ! you start, 
and look astounded : robbery like murder, you see, will come out. 

Mrs. Wyvill. — And that watch-chain too, that came from the 
same place. 

Mrs. H. Wyvill. — And that pin ! Everything exactly as the 
letter says. 

Franklyn. — You must all be gone mad together, to accuse 
me of such things. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Then others are mad too. Ay, ay, you thought 
it would not be found out. Poor Bessy ! to be near marrying 
such a wretch. 

Mrs. Wyvill. — Poor Bessy ! A vile impostor. 

Mrs. H. Wyvill.— Poor Bessy ! to be near marrying a thief. 

Franklyn {looking in amazement from one to the other.) — If 
this is meant for a jest, it has been earned far enough ; if meant 
in earnest, I must insist on knowing who makes these accusations. 

Mr. Wytill. — Jest ! oh, no ! it is no jesting matter. Here 
(taking up the letter) we have it from one who knows you well 
and describes you exactly, ring, chain, and pin. 

Franklyn. — Let me see. (Beads.) A vile invention, sir. 
Either a hoax, or the malice of a rival. 

Mr. Wyvill. — You expect me to think so, do you! Old birds 
are not caught with chaff. 

Franklyn. — On my honor, sir, it is all a lie. Only give me 
time, and I will prove it so. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Will you ! Where did you get the ring? 

Franklyn.— In Paris. 



106 THE RECEPTION. 

Mr. Wyvill. — And the chain? 

Franklyn. — At Geneva. 

Mr. Wyvill.— And the pin? 

Franklyn. — At Florence. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Cunning rogne ! none bought in this country, 
Thief, villain 

Franklyn. — Hear ine, sir 

Mr. Wyvill, his Wife, and Sister, (all at once).— No, we 
have heard enough — thief, irnposter, knave. 

Franklyn (passionately). — I will be heard. I am all that I 
have said. 

Enter a Servant, who whispers to Wyvill, and puts a paper 
into Ms hand. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Are yon Mr. Jeremiah Brown, alias Jones, 
alias something else? 

Franklin.— I tell yon I am Charles Franklyn. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Then who is this? (Beads from the paper.) 
Tall, well-made, erect, dark waving hair, fine dark eyes, straight 
nose, small month, handsome, good address, plausible in con- 
versation, suspected of having robbed Tiffany & Co. of a large 
amount of jewellery, consisting of pins, chains, ring, etc. (Look 
in the glass if it is not you.) A reward is offered to whoever will 
give information that will lead to his conviction. 

Franklyn. — It is impossible you can believe this meant for me. 

Mr. Wyvill. — There is one of the New York police without. 
What do you suppose he will think of the matter ? 
Franklyn. — Call him in, and let me be cleared at once. 
Mr. Wyvill. — Certainly. Bid him come in. [Exit Servant. 

Enter a Policeman. 

Franklyn. — Now, sir, you will find your mistake, and may re- 
gret the insults heaped upon me. (Turning to the Policeman.) 
Have you ever seen the Jeremiah Brown described in this paper ? 

Police. — Two or three times. 

Franklyn (joyfulltj).—So much the better, since your testi- 
mony must establish my innocence. Am I this Jeremiah Brown, 
alias Jones ? 

Police (positively). — Yes, you are. 



THE RECEPTION. ,107 

Mr. Wyvill, his Wife, and Sister (all speaking at once in 
great excitement). — There, there! what do you say now? Thief, 
villain, vile impostor? 

Franklyn (looks astounded, but recovers himself after some 
moments). — Look again and own your mistake. 

Police. — I am not often mistaken in these things. You are 
Jeremiah Brown, alias Jones. I am not to be beaten out of my 
belief by bullying airs. 

Mrs. Wyvill. — Horrid monster ! "What an escape for poor 
Bessy ! 

Mrs. H. "Wyvill. — Tile wretch! And to think how well he 
talked. 

Mr. "Wyvill. — Out of the frying-pan into the fire, young man. 
You would have the police called in ; and now you must take the 
consequences. 

Franklyn. — On my honor, you are all mistaken. 

Mr. Wyvill (with a sneer). — I have heard of honor among 
thieves. 

Franklyn. — You will repent this, sir. 

Mr. Wyvill (mockingly). — I suppose so. And what will you 
do at the prison ? 

Franklyn. — My innocence can soon be proved. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Can it? 

Police. — Come along, young man : no use talking here. You 
can prove your innocence at the police court. You may as well 
come along quietly, 

Franklyn. — I have letters here which will prove my identity. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Letters stolen from their rightful owner, as this 
informs me (pointing to the letter). 

Franklyn. — Will you believe nothing I say ? 

Mr. Wyvill. — Nothing, Mr. Jeremiah Brown. 

Franklyn. — Nor you, Mrs. Wyvill? (The ladies draw back 
in horror, holding up their hands exclaiming, Monster! villain!) 

Police. — Come along. Don't you see how you frighten the 
ladies ? * 

Franklin. — One instant. Let me write a note to request the 
presence of Mr. Frederick Thompson, the^ celebrated lawyer, he 
knows me well. 



108 THE RECEPTION. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Surely a plan to gain time ; yon know he is 
not in the country. I say, Mr. Jeremiah Brown, alias Jones, we 
are all gone mad, are we not ? 

Franklin {bitter ly).— I believe you are; but it is waste of 
words to say more now. 

Mr. Wyvill.— Exactly so. Take him away, and mind yon 
keep a sharp look out after him {nodding to the Policeman). 

Police (with a knowing wink). — Trust me for that (takes 
Franklyn' s arm). 

Enter Mr. Frederick Thompson in haste. 

Franklyn (joyfully breaking from the Policeman and rush- 
ing to Mr. Thompson).— Just in time, Thompson, to save me 
handcuffs, and perhaps a prison ; at least, if the wishes of my 
father-in-law could have affected it. Never did I stand in 
more need of your aid. 

Mr. Thompson. — Why, what is all this ? I heard some non- 
sense about your being a thief, so galloped hither ready to break 
my neck to give you a good character. You owe me a horse, 
Frauklyn, for I have broken the wind of mine in your service. 

Franklyn. — Tou shall have the best in my stalls. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Is that really Franklyn then, not Jeremiah 
Brown? 

Mr. Thompson. — To be sure, who says he is not ? 

Franklyn. — One who should have known better — Bessy's 
father. 

Mr. Wyvill (in some confusion). — It was the fault of this 
letter. 

Mr. Thompson. — Ha, ha, ha! A hoax of Boynton's; I could 
swear to the turn of his expressions. How could you be so taken 
in? 

Mr. "WyvIll. — But the policeman swears it is Jeremiah Brown. 

Mr. Thompson. — Then he is forsworn, and I will report him, 
and have him dismissed from the force, if he persists in the lie. 
Why, I have known Charles Franklyn fror* the hour he was 
born, and will vouch there is not a finer fellow in this country. 
If I had twenty daughters he should take his choice. So get 
along with you : I met the real Jeremiah Brown on his way to 



THE RECEPTION. 109 

!New York yesterday, escorted by two of your tribe. (The 
Policeman sneaks off.) Why, Wyvill, how foolish you are 
looking, like a goose which can't make up its mind which leg to 
stand on. Come, come, own yourself in the wrong, and hold 
out your hand, Frankljm is not unforgiving. There, there, that 
is right. (Joins tlieir hands.) Bessy was wiser, I will be bound. 

Mr. Wyvill. — Yes, Bessy would not believe a word of it, and 
would have come down and said so, if we would have allowed 
it. I cannot think now how I came to believe it. 

Mr. Thompson. — Nor I either. A pretty predicament you 
were in, Master Franklyn. 

Franklyn. — I was, indeed ; and had not you come just at the 
right moment, I know not what might have been my fate. 

Mr. Thompson. — Ay, ay ! never mind now. " All's well that 
ends well. " I like proverbs. 

Franklyn. — There is another then which applies more partic- 
ularly to yourself. 

Mr. Thompson. — Do not say it — leave them to guess it. And 
now let us run and tell Bessy the news. I will be there first. 
She was a pretty little thing when I used to dance her on my 
knee. 

Mr. Wyvill. — No; I will go and find Bessy myself. It is 
mainly my own fault that any reliance has been given to an 
anonymous letter. "Wait a moment, I will return without delay. 

[Exit Wyvill. 

Mrs. Wyvill. — Oh, Franklyn ! How can we ever make 
amends for our terrible mistake ? 

Enter Wyvill and Bessy; 

Mr. Wyvill. There, Franklyn ! Take her, and forget, if you 
can, all that I said and did in my folly. 

FRANKLrN (takes doth Bessy's hands in his right, and grasp- 
ing Thompson's with his left). — Dear Bessy — they told me you 
did not believe a word of it. And, Thompson, my dear fellow, 
a friend in — 

Mr. Thompson.— All right, Franklyn, every body knows that 
proverb ! 

CURTAIN. 



110 



CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. 

By Bob O'Link. 



CHARACTERS. 
Janet Armstrong, an heiress. 
Ellen Stirling, her confidential young friend. 
James Montague, a wealthy young bachelor. 
Henry Parker, his college friend. 
Mr. Seymour, an elderly bachelor. 



Costumes. — Suitable for the different characters. Janet, 
quite stylish; Ellen, lady-like, hut much plainer; these two ex- 
change costumes previous to the third Scene. 

SCEKE I. — A sitting room. Mr. Seymour seated, a letter in 
his hand. 

Mr. Seymour. — This is indeed unexpected news ! Poor 
Armstrong ! "We used to be such warm friends, but ever since he 
settled in Memphis, years ago, with the exception of a letter at 
long intervals, we have lost sight of one another. So he is dead ! 
(pause, peruses letter). He did not forget his old Mend, for he 
has appointed me by his will, guardian to his daughter, a girl I 
have never seen. A nice prospect, truly ! And furthermore, his 
last request, — so this lawyer's letter tells me, — was that Janet — 
that's her name— should come to live with me, at least until she 
was of age and capable of managing her own affairs. Oh dear ! 
what shall I do with a girl of eighteen ? A hot-headed southern 
girl, — no doubt brim full of mischief too ! Well, I suppose I shall 
have to endure it. I'm to expect her on Wednesday, and here it 
is Tuesday already. I shall have to make some preparations, 
too—Oh, dear ! — i hope she'll get married before the year is out ! 



CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. Ill 

Enter James Montague, R. 
Oh ! James, my dear fellow, glad to see you — I've had quite a 
shock. — There — read that letter — (hands letter). 

James (sits down and reads). — Ah — Memphis — Armstrong — 
(peruses letter) — Well ! I think you ought to be glad to have some 
one around you to cheer you up. — Waken you up a bit, eh ? 

Seymour. — Oh yes ! Worry me to death, and wake me after- 
wards. James, you must help me. — The girl's rich, and perhaps — ■ 
who knows? — eh? — you young rascal? (rises). I think I will 
go down to the Club, and try to get my ruffled spirits quieted a 
little. — Will you keep me company. 

James. — With pleasure. [Exeunt, R, conversing. 

Enter Janet and Ellen, X, dressed as from a journey, 
with parcels and wraps in their hands. 

Janet. — This is too bad, to arrive here and Mr. Seymour gone 
out ! Perhaps it is not his fault, for we are a day ahead of the 
time arranged for us to arrive. No, matter — let's sit down, for 
I have a plan to arrange, which you will be a dear good girl and 
aid me in carrying out. 

Ellen. — A plan ! pray what ban be your fancy now ? 

Janet. — I'll tell you. I've been thinking it all over on the 
journey here, and Ellen, dear, you must help me. You see, dear, 
we are coming among strangers, and can know nothing of the 
people we shall meet. I' 7e no doubt Mr. Seymour is a grumpy 
old fellow, and will tell every one that I am a rich girl. You 
know my distrust of young men, how they lay in wait to catch 
a girl with money. Now, you know, Mr. Seymour has never 
seen us. — Well, to cut it short— you shall be Janet Armstrong, 
and I, Ellen Stirling. 

Ellen. — Oh ! Janet ! 

Janet. — Ellen, if you please — 

Ellen. — I never could carry out such a mad freak as that. I 
know I should betray myself every minute. 

Janet. — Not you ! We shall both have to be very careful, es- 
pecially not to answer to our own names, and not to forget our- 
selves when addressed by the names we have assumed. Come 
dear El— Janet ! it may be for only a short time— won't you ? 



112 CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. 

Ellen.— Well Jan— I mean, Ellen— I will try— but Oh ! Fm 
sure we shall be caught before an hour is past. Come — Ellen — 
let's go and arrange matters more fully, and change our dresses, 
Miss Madcap. [Exeunt, L. 

Enter Mr. Seymour and James, R, conversing. 

Seymour. — So, she has arrived already, — and what is worse 
and worse, another girl with her. One was bad enough, but two of 
them ! James, take pity on me, — marry one of them, — and — ah 
I idea, — see if you can't persuade your friend Parker to take 
the heiress off my hands. Tell him — and I mean it, in sober 
earnest, — I will give him fifty thousand dollars, cash down, on 
his wedding day if he will only take her. 

James. — Good gracious, friend Seymour ! what a terror you 
seem to be in. How do you know that these girls are not nice, 
charming creatures, and prove a perfect blessing to you in your 
advancing years. 

Seymour. — Charming fiddlesticks ! Stay, James, come and dine 
with us this evening and bring Parker with you. I shall go crazy 
if I'm left alone with these mad-caps the first evening — will you ? 

James. — Most willingly. I am all curiosity to see them. — Your 
fancied torments in petticoats may prove angels in disguise. 

[Exeunt, R. 

SCEKE II. — A bachelor's sitting room, untidy and littered. 
Henry Parker sitting at a table, studying. 

Henry. — This is a queer world. There's that dear fellow, 
James Montague, rich, handsome, and yet perpetually in fear of 
matrimony, dreading lest his money should prove a stronger at- 
traction than his own, lovable self. Here am I, struggling for a 
mere maintenance, unable to marry &poor girl, and not daring 
to approach a rich one, for fear of being mistaken for a fortune- 
hunter. Truly embarrassing, and a sad prospect. (En t er James, R). 
Ah, James ! I was just thinking of you, I'm glad you've came. 
Sit down. 

Jamj:s. — I've come with a pressing appeal from Mr. Seymour, 
beseeching you to join me in dining at his house this evening. 
In fact, I took the liberty of assuring him you would not fail to 
accept. 



CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. J 113 

Henry. — What in the world do you mean ? He beseeching 
and — 

James. — Oh! the poor man is half ont of his wits. He finds 
himself all of a sudden the guardian of a rich young girl from 
Memphis. She arrived to day, with another girl, her companion, 
from whom she refused to be separated, because she was poor. 
So he appealed to me to help him to get through what he called 
his first evening of torture. 

Henry. — Indeed ! Well I will consent to be tortured, too. 

James. — Poor Seymour ! He is in a perfect fever of terror at 
his house being invaded by a couple of southern mad-caps — that's 
what he calls them. But, Henry, he's planning already to get 
rid of them. He offers me the companion, as he knows I have 
enough for both of us, and what do you think? I assure you he 
means it, every word, — he says he will give you fifty thousand 
dollars,— cash down, — his very words — on your wedding day, if 
you will only marry the heiress. Oh ! it's altogether too funny if 
they should turn out to be charming girls, and — who knows? — Eh 1 ? 

Henry. — What ? I marry an heiress ? and be taken for a fortune- 
hunter ? Never. Besides, I won't be bribed. 

James. — Oh! don't you see? you cannot marry the companion, 
so he gives her to me. I tell you what ! To be sure ! The very 
thing. I'll fix it all right with Seymour. In the state he is now, 
he will do anything I ask him. See here, Henry. You and I, 
with Seymour's entire consent, will change places. You shall be 
the rich young bachelor, and no fortune-hunter at all. I will be 
the poor young man, and avoid all possibility of being accepted 
on the score of my money. 

Henry.— It seems a mad project, and may cause some trouble 
or embarrassment ; but the temptation is strong, and I will sub- 
mit for once to sail under false colors. 

James.— Spoken like the good fellow that you are. Come, it's 
time we started. [Exeunt R y talking and laughing. 



SCENE III. — A boudoir. Occasional sounds of soft dance- 
music off R. Enter Janet (as Ellen) and Henry X. 

Henry — How delightful it is to find a quiet spot, away from 
the merry throng ! Rest yourself a few moments (she sits down. 



114 CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. ■ 

Henry icalks up and down, excitedly ; turns to Janet). Oh, I 
can defer it no longer. Miss Sterling ! Dear Ellen ! Deem me not 
presnmptnons on only three weeks' acquaintance ; bub I must 
speak ; I must learn my fate. I love you. I love you. You 
know it — you cannot but have perceived it. Tell me dare I hope ? 
I have fancied that sometimes my presence was not disagreeable 
to you. Say, my darling, is it so ? 

Janet. — Oh ! what shall I say ? This is so unexpected ; if 
you knew — 

Henry. — If I knew that you could love me — do love me — But 
before you answer me, let me confess that you have been deceived 
— I am not as rich by far as you may have perhaps been led to 
believe, I am not rich enough to afford you the luxuries you may 
have hoped for, but only a comfortable and happy home, and a 
heart which beats but for you. 

Janet. — I am glad you have confessed your deception— and I 
pardon you with all my heart. I will waive all reserve, dear 
Henry, for I do love you. No thought of money ever entered 
my head ; for, I, too, am not what I seem. My name is Janet 
Armstrong, and I am happy — oh ! so happy— to find a true heart 
is offered me for myself aloDe. 

Henry. — You! Janet! and rich! Oh, my darling — I care 
not for your money, but the world will say — will think differ- 
ently. 

Janet. — What matters what the world may say or think. An 
honest, loving heart is far above all riches. But come, let us go 
back to the ball-room — or Mrs. Grundy will say we have., had a 
very long flirtation. 

Henry. — Oh, happiness. My own {embraces Iter). 

I Exeunt, arm in arm. 

Enter Ellen (as Janet) and James. 

Ellen. — Well ! I certainly must give you credit for cool, un- 
blushing enterprise. You take advantage of a wild waltz to hold 
me fast, whether I would or no, and compel me to listen to such 
a burst of eloquence, such protestations, such entreaties. 

James. — Oh ! I have struggled against myself, until I could 
stand it no longer; and, fairly bewildered by the mad delight of 






CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. 115 

holding yon in my arms, the love of my heart drove me to the 
avowal, — Oh, bid me not despair. 

Ellen.— Xot anhonr ago, I was resting in the conservatory, 
and I had to listen to jnst snch a torrent of fervid words from a 
gentleman, who happened for the moment to be my partner. A 
few words from me, however, so dampened his ardor, that I have 
not even seen him since. 

James. — Indeed ? Bnt I assure yon that nothing yon can say, 
short of crnel dismissal, can prevent me from persisting in my 
endeavors to tonch yonr heart. Oh ! tell me, if I have not 
already the joy of yonr preference, let me at least try to win you. 

Ellen. — I think yon are sincere in what yon say, and I confess 
that if there is to be any absolute dismissal, it will not originate 
with me — 

James. — Enough ! I shall — 

Ellen. — One moment, — before you commit yourself too far. 
The words which saved me from a mere fortune-hunter, I will 
also say to you. If you hope to win the heart and worldly posses- 
sions of Janet Armstrong, I think I can assure you that you will 
be utterly disappointed. Xay ! Hear me out. My name is Ellen 
Stirling, whose face and personal attractions that you rave about 
are all that I possess in the world. Xow, sir, what say you ? 

James. — Oh ! joy unspeakable ! I care not one straw for Miss 
Armstrong's money. Darling, dare I hope that you love me, and 
will be mine, — the wife of a poor man like me? 

Ellen. — Yes, Mr. Montague, — dear James ! I do love you 
for you are noble and true. 

Enter Seymour, R, wiper ceived. 

James.— My own ! My Ellen ! But you, also are laboring 
under a slight mistake. Your avowal assures me that your love 
is true, and for myself alone, unbiassed by worldly considerations. 
I am not what you have been led to suppose, probably by Mr. 
Seymour. I am rich, my darling, and have found a still greater 
treasure in your love, beside which all else to me is dross. 

Seymour (advancing). — Pretty goings on, indeed, (to James) 
Pray what have you, sir, to say about Mr. Seymour? 

Ellen (advancing to Seymour threatening). — Oh ! you wicked 



116 CATJGRT IN THEIB OWN TRAP. 

— deceiving old man ! How dare you tell me a pack of false- 
hoods about James Montague and Mr. Parker ! If I had been a 
mercenary girl, I might have lost a noble heart, through your 
wickedness ! 
Seymour. — You vixen ! How dare you — 

Enter Janet and Henry, L. 

Henry.— Mr. Seymour! what in the world are you saying? 
"What does this all mean ! 

Janet. — Oh ! I can guess what it is. (To Seymour.) You 
bad, bad man ! How dare you tell me that Henry was a rich 
man, and make it possible for him to suspect that I was after his 
money ! Answer me ! you dreadful old fibber, you ! 

Seymour. — Another tiger ! Oh, a regular hornet's nest. 
{Angrily to Janet.) As for you, you wild-cat ! I thank my stars 
that I have nothing to do with you. Go— scratch out anybody's 
eyes you please ! (to Ellen.) But you! You minx ! As your 
guardian, I have got you under my thumb, at least till you are 
of age, and you must get my consent before you fling yourself at 
the feet of the first man that comes fooling around you. I for- 
bid — absolutely forbid — you to have anything more to do with — 

Ellen (laughing heartily). — Forbid me! Oh, that is too re- 
freshing ! You, my guardian ! No, indeed, you are very much 
mistaken. I am not your ward, but (ivith mock humility) Ellen 
Stirling, and very much at your service. 

Seymour. — What do you mean? You, Ellen! (to Janet.) 
Who then may you be ? Another impostor ? 

Janet. — No — you dear, ill-tempered old guardian — I am Janet 
Armstrong, your ward ; and, in spite of your being sometimes a 
little ruffled, I think you are dear warm-hearted old man (raises 
his hand to her lips). 

Seymour (relenting). — Well, of all the wicked girls I ever 
met ! (aside) I suppose I shall have to give in, and face it all. 
(Aloud). I must confess that, at the urgent request of Mr. 
Montague, in an excited moment I agreed to countenance his 
and Mr. Parker's little deception, (to Janet and Ellen.) But 
I never expected that two chits like you would have the audacity 
to play such a trick on us all. After all, you have brought sun- 



ELWOOUS DECISION. Ill 

shine into the honse of a grumpy old bachelor, and I forgive you, 
you two dear little bundles of mischief ! 

Janet. — Dear Guardian, I never for a moment believed that 
you could believe that we believed — 

Ellen. — TYhat a lot of believing ! 

James (fiy Ellen's side B.). — This has been quite a comedy 
of errors, and I rejoice to find that it has gained for me one true 
and loving heart. 

Henry (by Janet's side). — I congratulate you, James, from 
the bottom of my heart. My joy, too, is complete ; for I have 
won the only prize that can make me the happiest man alive — 
and, I am sure, James, you and I are only too happy — 

Seymour. — To have been cleverly 

Caught in Tour Own Trap. 
C URTAIN. 



ELWOOD'S DECISION. 

By H. Elliott McBride. 



{CHARACTERS. 

Frank Barton, John Morton, 

Elwood Chess, Harry Morton. 



SCEXE I.— A road. Frank and Elwood discovered, appar- 
ently in earnest conversation. 

Frank. — You need not tell your parents that you are going 
with the steamboat excursion. Just say that the Morton boys 
want you to go over there to spend the day. They will not ob- 
ject to your going there. 

Elwood. — But I have never told a lie and I do not want to 
commence now. 

Frank. — That will not be a lie. Tou need not say that you 
are going to visit the Morton boys. Just ask if you may go there. 



118 ELWOOD' S DECISION. 

Elwood.— That would be acting a lie, and that is just as bad 
as telling a lie. 

Frank. — Ton are Yery particular about a little bit of a fib. I 
wouldn't stop for one if I could get to go on a steamboat ex- 
cursion. And the excursion will be splendid — I know it will. 
There will be music on board and such a nice time in the grove. 

Elwood. — I would like to go, but my parents would not allow 
me. They think there is too much noise and excitement about 
these excursions. 

"Frank. —Pooh ! JNow for once, Elwood, don't be a dunce. 
Come along and you will never regret it. I will meet you at the 
cross roads and we can go together to the village. 

Elwood. — But I don't think — 

Frank. — Oh, stop your talk. I would'nt be snch a chicken as 
you are for a thousand dollars. Stay at home then, if you think 
it would be such an awful thing to go without the consent of your 
parents. Stay at home and miss all the music and the fun. 

Elwood. — I believe I will go. I suppose it will be no harm if 
I go once without my parents 7 consent. I have always done as 
they told me. 

Frank. — Of course you have, and they will not care for your 
going even if they do find it out. But you need'nt say anything 
about it. They will think that you have been over to visit the 
Morton boys. I will meet you at the cross roads at nine o'clock. 
The boat will start at ten. 

Elwood.— Yery well, I will be there. 

[Exit Frank, B., Elwood, L. 



SCENE II.— Another road. Enter Elwood, L. 

Elwood. — I am here according to appointment, but I have 
made my mind that I will not to go with the excursion. I asked 
father if he would allow me to go over and spend the day with 
the Morton boys, and he said he would. I suppose the steamboat 
excursion will be very nice, but I have made up my mind that I 
will not go. They would find out sometime that I did not go to 
Morton's, and anyhow I don't think it would be right. The ex- 
cursion would not be very pleasant to me either, for I would keep 



EL WOOD'S DECISION. 119 

thinking all the time that I had deceived my parents. No, I will 
not go. I promised to meet Frank here, and I will wait until he 
comes, and then I will go on to Mr. Morton's. I can have a 
splendid time with John and Harry Morton. I believe I will en- 
joy myself more there than I would to go with the excursion. 
Enter Frank, JR. 

Frank. — Good morning, Elwood. You're here in good time I 
see. But let us walk on. 

Elwood. — I have decided that I will not go. 

Frank. — "Will not go ! You don't say so. "What has come 
over you now f 

Elwood. — I asked permission to go to Mr. Morton's and that's 
where I'm going. 

Frank. — Pooh ! don't be a dunce. Come along with me and 
we'll have a glorious time. 

Elwood. — I have never deceived my parents and I don't want 
to commence to-day. 

Frank. — Oh, you'll have no fun over at Morton's. Better 
come along. 

Elwood. — Xo, I will not go. I have decided. 

Frank. — You're a poor chicken-hearted bo|V *Run along to 
Morton's. Don't do anything to offend your excellent parents. 
Now, before I go, let me tell you what I think of you. You're a 
nice little mamma's boy — a sort of a lamb or a sheep, or some- 
thing of not much account. I would'nt be such a boy for a 
thousand dollars — can't go any place — can't do anything without 
asking your good papa and mamma. Bah ! I don't want to talk 
to such a boy. I want to get away from you as soon as possible. 

[Exit Frank, L. 

Elwood. — "Well, I think I shall feel better at Morton's with 
my parents' consent to go there, than I should feel if I had gone 
with the excursion. lExit Elwood, B: 



SCEXE III.— A lawn or play ground. 
Enter Elwood and Harry, R.^ 
Elwood. — "We have had a nice time to-day. 
Harry. — Yes, I think we have had splendid fun. 



120 EL WOOD'S DECISION. 

Elwood.— Now, when will you and John come over and play 
with me ? Can't you come next Saturday ? 

Harry.— Not next Saturday. I think father wants us to help 
him do some work that day. But I think we can go in a week 
from next Saturday— two weeks from to-day. 

Elwood.— I think I will have my new croquet set by that 
time and we can have several games. Be sure and come and 
tell John to come too. 

Enter John, L. 

John. — I have a sad piece of news to communicate. 

Harry and Elwood.— What is it? 

John. — Father has just come home and he says that the 
steamboat, which the excursion went out in to-day, struck a 
rock off Kaymond's point and she filled and went to the bottom. 

Harry.— Oh, isn't that dreadful ! 

Elwood. — Where there any lives lost? 

John. — Yes, there was about twenty drowned. The remainder 
got safely to land. A boy from our neighborhood was drowned. 

Harry.— Who? 

Elwood.— Not Frank Barton? 

John. — Yes. 

Elwood. — Oh, is he drowned ? And I came near going too. 

Harry. — You ! I thought your father didn't approve of boys 
going on steamboat excursions. Our father wouldn't hear to 
our going. 

Elwood. — I did not ask to go, for I knew my parents would 
not consent, but Frank talked to me about it, and at last I said 
I would go with him. After I had thought the matter over I 
decided that I would not deceive my parents and act a lie, and I 
met Frank according to appointment this morning and told him 
so. I feel sorry for Frank. Just to think of it ! This morning 
he was alive and well and now he is dead. If I had gone I 
might have met the same fate. 

Harry. — Oh, Elwood ! I'm so glad you did not go. 

Elwood. — It certainly has been a narrow escape for me ; and 
the bitter way Frank jeered at me for standing out against his 
attempts to persuade me almost shook my resolution for a 



THE REPOBT. 121 

moment. But I knew that all my pleasure would be spoiled, if 
I went, by the consciousness of doing a wrong thing. 

Harry. — That's exactly why I am so glad. Of course we 
should all be dreadfully sorry if any accident had happened to 
you, but I am so glad that you had the courage to resist tempta- 
tion. Poor Frank's fate will be a terrible blow to his father, not 
only from the sudden loss, so utterly unexpected, but from the 
fact that Frank had deceived him. I know that Mr. Barton for- 
bade him to go on the excursion. 

John. — This is a terrible lesson to all of us, and should teach 
us, in a maimer that we can never forget, that truthfulness and 
obedience are the only guide to happiness. 

Elwood. — I think we shall all remember this sad occurrence. 
Good-bye, I must be off. [Exit Elwood. 

John. — "What a narrow escape for Elwood ! — Come Harry, 

let's get home. [Exeunt. 

CURTAIN. 



THE REPORT; 

OR, 

"LEAST SAID SOONEST MENDED." 

By Ellen Pickering. 

{See note to Dialogue entitled " THE UNCLE," page 28). 



CHARACTERS. 



Mr. Silent, Mrs. Prattle. Mrs. Silent. 

SCEXE. — Mr. Silent reading; enter Mrs. Silent in a flurry. 
Mrs. Silent. — Oh, my dear, only think ! Selina Audrey is 

going to marry Mr. Frederick Jones. Did you ever hear of such 

a thing ? 
Mr. Silent. — I heard it was settled three weeks ago, 
Mrs. Silent. — You heard it was settled three weeks ago! And 

why did you not tell me ? ^ 



122 THE REPOBT. 

Mr. Silent. — What was the use of telling yon? I knew yon 
would not be asked to the wedding, or there would be plenty of 
time to buy a new bonnet if you should. 

Mrs. Silent. — What is the use ? That is just what you always 
say. As if one did not like to know what one's neighbors were 
about. I declare I am quite ashamed of my ignorance very often. 
I never hear that anyone is dying, or going to be married, till it 
is all over. And where did you hear this ? 

Mr. Silent.— Out hunting. 

Mrs. Silent.— Yes, all news is hatched or told out hunting. 
Don't talk of tea-table gossip, it is nothing to hunting coffee- 
houses. But I declare I don ; t see the use of your going hunting ; 
you never tell me anything. 

Mr. Silent. — What is the use of spreading reports ? 
^ Mrs. Silent. — That is just what you always say, and so I never 
know anything. It seems so unkind not to congratulate one's 
friends on a wedding in the family. 

Mr. Silent. — Ten to one if there is not more cause for con- 
dolence. 

Mrs. Silent.— Bear me ! Have you heard anything about 
Mr. Jones? 

Mr. Silent continues reading. 

Mrs. Silent {impatiently). — My dear why don't yon answer? 
Have you heard anything of Mr. Frederick Jones? 

Mr. Silent.— Yes. 

Mrs. Silent. — What have you heard ? 

Mr. Silent. — A great deal. 

Mrs. Silent. — But what, my dear — what? Yon are so tire- 
some ; one has to drag every word from you by question upon 
question. What have you heard of Mr. Jones ? 

Mr. Silent. — That he is a bachelor. 

Mrs. Silent. — I knew that before. What else? 

Mr. Silent. — His mother lives in Boston. 

Mrs. Silent.— I knew that too. What else did you hear? 

Mr. Silent. — They say he is short. 

Mrs. Silent.— Pooh ! I heard that before too. Is he rich? 

Mr. Silent. — I have no special opportunity of knowing. 

Mrs. Silent.— What do people say about his fortune ? 



THE REPORT. 123 

Mr. Silent. — Some say it is large. 

Mrs. Silent.— Is that all you know about it? Then I can tell 
you, my dear, something you have not heard before. He has 
gambled away all his fortune, and has not a dollar left. 

Mr. Silent. — I heard that a month ago. 

Mrs. Silent. — And never told me ! not even just now when I 
questioned you so closely. You really are enough to make an 
automaton scold. Where did you hear it? 

Mr. Silent. — At the Exchange one morning. 

Mrs. Silent. — There, that is just as I said before; you 
never tell me anything. I don't see the use of being your 
wife, or of your going to the Exchange, if you are never to tell 
me anything. Mr. Prattle tells his wife all he hears, as husbands 
should. 

Mr. Silent.— Better if he did not. 

Mrs. Silent.— I don't see that at all, my dear. What are 
tongues for, if not to be used ? 

Mr. Silent. — We have two ears to one tongue, which proves 
that we should only tell half what we hear. 

Mrs. Silent. — I don't see that at all. We have two legs to 
one head. Does that mean that we are to walk twice as much 
as we think. 

Mr. Silent. — Most do who are not bedridden. 

Mrs. Silent. — We should never know anything about our 
neighbors if that was to be the case ; besides, you never tell more 
than a quarter of what you hear : no, not even that. 

Mr. Silent. — More than enough if I do; your neighbors will 
get on quite as well without your talking of them. 

Mrs. Silent. — But it makes one look so foolish. Tou told me 
the other day that Mrs. Hampden had a boy, but never told me 
she had twins, and there was I saying all manner of silly things 
in consequence. 

Mr. Silent. — You need not have said anything. Least said 
is soonest mended. 

Mrs. Silent. — Xot say anything when one's friend has twins, 
Mr. Silent ? Was there ever any one like you ? Why, you are 
worse than a heathen. Then you told lae Miss Welsh was going 
to be married, and when I went to congratulate her, lo, and be- 



124 THE REPORT. 

hold ! it was all off again ; and she looked red, and I looked red, 
and we all looked red and foolish together. 

Mr. Silent.— That comes of meddling in your neighbor's 
concerns. Had you held your tongue, as I do, no one would 
have looked red or foolish. 

Mrs. Silent. — Hold my tongue when my friend's daughter is 
going to be married ! Did any one in their senses ever say the like? 
Indeed, my dear, you grow worse and worse. If you had told me 
that the match was off, I should not have seemed so like an idiot. 

Mr. Silent. — Tou never asked me that. 

Mrs. Silent (pettishly). — Ask! that is always the way with 
you : I must make out a list of our friends and neighbors, and 
ask you every morning whether each one is well or ill, going to 
die, or going to be married. 

Mr. Silent. — Better not ; let them alone. Don't meddle with 
others, and they will not meddle with you. 

Mrs. Silent. — And so never know what is going on in the 
world ! 

Mr. Silent. — The world would go on quite as well, and you 
much better. 

Mrs. Silent, — I cannot say I think so, my dear, and wish you 
would tell me all you hear. 

Mr. Silent. — I would rather not, my dear: the country would 
soon be in a blaze if I did. 

Mrs. Silent. — Well, my dear, I must say it is very unkind to 
be so uncommunicative. Mrs. Prattle always knows eyery thing. 

Mr. Silent. — And tells everything too : she may pay for this 
one of these days. 

Mrs. Silent. — Mr. Silent, what can you mean? 

Mr. Silent. — Time may show. 

Mrs. Silent.— There, that is just like you ; giving no answer 
at all, or one that tells nothing. But here comes Mrs. Prattle 
herself. 

Enter Mrs. Prattle, who shakes hands with Mrs. Silent, but, 
in her harry, overlooks Mr. Silent. 

Mrs. Prattle.— Oh, my dear Mrs. Silent, oh! 

Mrs. Silent.— My dear Mrs. Prattle, what is the matter ; you 



THE REPORT. 125 

are panting and trembling like a coursed hare. Have you heard 
of any more marriages ? 

Mrs. Pratt. — Oh, my dear Mrs. Silent, pray never name the 
word marriage again : I shall hate it to my dying day. Oh dear ! 
we are in such trouble ! such distress ! TTould you believe it ? 
Mr. Frederick Jones is in a great rage, because some one has set 
about that he has lost all his fortune by gambling, and he talks 
of prosecuting Mr. Prattle and myself: only think how shocking 
— I, a lady, to be dragged into a court of justice. I am sure I 
did not set it about ; I only repeated what Prattle told me, and 
he heard it out hunting, and I told Mrs. Ready and her nieces 
and Mrs. Finch and her daughters not to repeat it. I am sure 
everybody knew it as well as we did — the whole town was talk- 
ing about it ten days ago. I am sure you must have heard it, 
my dear. 

Mrs. Silent (looking reproachfully at her husband). — !N"o, 
indeed, Mrs. Prattle, I never heard anything of it till this morn- 
ing : my husband is not like yours, he never tells me anything. 

Mrs. Pratt. — I wish Mr. Prattle had not told me this. Only 
think, our names put in the papers, and the counsel saying all 
kinds of things, and every one going to hear : and then perhaps 
to pay large damages beside. I am sure I did not mean any 
harm and would make twenty apologies. Do you think Mr. 
Silent could speak to Mr. Jones ? 

Mrs. Silent (turning to her husband). — Do you hear, my dear, 
the trouble poor Mrs. Prattle is in ? 

Mr. Silent. — That comes of talking. 

Mrs. Silent. — She only said what everybody else said. 

Mr. Silent. — Better if everybody held their tongues. 

Mrs. Silent.— Oh! my dear, what a very stupid world it 
would be then : as dull as a quakers' meeting. But do you hear, 
Mr. Jones is going to prosecute Mrs. Prattle for saying he gambled 
away all his fortune ? 

Mr. Silent. — Yes, my dear, I knew that an hour ago. 

Mrs. Silent. — And never told me! 

Mr. Silent.— Xo, my dear, and if Mr. Prattle had not told his 
wife they would not have been threatened with prosecution now. 
This comes of talking, as I said before. I have no advice to give 



126 TEE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 

on the subject further than to recommend to your notice an old 
proverb which suits your case, and recommends keeping the 
mouth shut. Good-morning. [Exit Mr. Silent. 

Mrs. Prattle {sharply). — People who are too selfish and in- 
dolent to give aid can give advice and quote proverbs ! Good- 
morning. [Exit Mrs. Prattle. 

Mrs. Silent. — I wonder what proverb he meant? Eh ! now I 
know. Well, perhaps if Mrs. Prattle had not talked so, she would 
not have got into this trouble. We must all take care what we 
say. Oh ! How glad I am that my husband does'nt tell me all 
he hears. If he did, I should be in just as much trouble as Mrs- 
Prattle. — Oh, he's right ! "What an escape for me ! Yes — that 
proverb is worth its weight in gold! 

r [Exit, holding her finger on her mouth. 

CURTAIN. 



THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 

By H. Elliott McBride. 



CHARACTERS. 

Joseph Smith Symington, a Mormon. 
Juliana Evalina, \ 

Sally Anna Roxalina, > his wives.!, 
Lucy Anna Seraphina, ) 



SCEJSTE I.— A Room neatly furnished. 

Enter Joseph Smith Symington, intoxicated, R. 

Joseph.— I guess this 's er right place— hie. I'll sit down a 
spell anyhow. {Seats himself on chair near C.) If this shouldn't 
be er right house I reckon there 'd be a fuss. But I think 's er 
right house; (LooJcs around.) looks like er right house, anyhow. 
Yes, there's er pie'er of my three wives— hie— I've got" three 
wives. {Laughs.) He! he! an' they 're purty fine women. There's 



THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 127 

Juliana Evalina, that's one, an 7 then there's Sally Anna Koxalina 
an' that's two, an' lem me see, who 's the other one? \(Counts 
on liis fingers.) There 's Juliana Evalina and Sally Anna Koxa- 
lina — yes, that 's their names — well, that's one, an' there 's Lucy 
Anna Seraphena, an' that's two, an' — lem me see, who's the 
t'other one ? There's Sally Anna Lucy Jane Eoxalena {con- 
fused) an' there's Juliana Sarah Matilda Evalina. There must 
be somethin' wrong ; I can't get it straightened out, nohow. I 
thought I had got my wives' names so I could go over them as 
slick as er multiplication table, but I can't. I've got em mixed 
up. I'm drunker 'n I thought I was — hie. I 'spect my wives 
will get up a fuss about this spree of mine ; they're down on my 
spreein' and drinkin', but I s'pose — hie — I don't care a great deal. 
This'd be a poor country if a feller couldn't take a snifter when 
he felt like it. 

Enter Juliana Evalina, L. 

Juliana (raising her hands in astonishment). — Oh, Joseph, is 
it possible ? 

Joseph {rises with difficulty and takes off his hat). — Hello, 
Julivina Seraphena (staggers and sits down on chair), Con- 
stantina Martha TTashingtona, how d'ye do now ? Give me your 
hand, my fan* buzzuin pardner — hie. Come ter me fun* I can't go 
ter you. . I'm sort'f unsteady — got a sore foot, you know — can't 
walk much — hie — that is, not a great deal — un'er stand ? 

Juliana. — Oh, Joseph, Joseph. I could sit down and weep 
bitter, bitter tears. 

Joseph. — You could? I bet yer couldn't. Anyhow — hie — 
what'd be the us« ? TThat'd be the good of weepin' bitter tears ? 
Jis' don't say anything about this scrape, Evalena Constantina 
^Tashingtona and it'll soon all be over.. You see — hie— I met a 
feller an' he thought he ought ter treat, an' then I thought J 
ought ter treat an' then in the nex' place he thought he ought ter 
treat— hie — an' we kep' up this thing till we got purty bad foozled. 

Juliana. — Oh, Joseph, Joseph, did I ever think you would 
come down to this ? 

Joseph ^straightening up).— Come down to which? But it 
don't make any difference— hie. Is the supper ready ? "What yer 
goin' ter have for supper ? 



128 THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 

Juliana. —The last time you came home intoxicated didn't you 
promise me, and didn't you promise us all three that you would 
never drink again? 

Joseph. — Which ? 

Juliana.— Oh, Joseph, Joseph, I am sad. My heart sinks 
within me when you come home intoxicated. {Weeps loudly.) 

Joseph.— I ain't 'tossicated— not a bit— only jist a little foozled 
or boozled, but can't jist — hie — say which it is. 

Enter Sally Anna Eoxalina, R. 

Sally Anna.— Oh, dear! oh, dear ! Is Joseph drunk again? 

Joseph. — No, I ain't drunk again. What makes you think 
I'm drunk again ? Look me in the face an' tell me if you think 
I look like a man that would git drunk again. 

Juliana. — Oh, this is sad, this is sad ! 

Sally Anna. — Terrible ! terrible ! 

Joseph. — What's ter'ble ? I don't see nothin' ter'ble. 

Sally Anna (severely). — Sir, did'nt you promise me that you 
would never drink intoxicating liquor again ? 

Joseph. — Never made sich a promise in all my born days. 

Sally Anna. — He's so drunk he does'nt know what he's doing. 

Juliana. — Yes, he does'nt even know my name. He's been 
calling me Seraphina and Constantina and Martha Washingtona 
and half a dozen other names. He is very drunk. Don't you 
think we ought to put him to bed ? 

Joseph (springs- up, throws out his arm as if to strike then 
staggers oack into his chair). — I dare any man ter put me ter bed. 
Jis' let a man try an' I'll shoot him on the spot. 

Sally Anna. — Oh, don't get excited about nothing. If you 
don't want to go to bed stay where you are. Tou are not fit to 
go to bed. We only wanted to put you there to get you out of 
sight. The proper place for you would be in the hog-pen. 

Joseph (rising and standing unsteadily). — Look here, woman, 
— hie — you claim to be a wife of mine. 

Sally Anna. — Yes, I'm a wife of yours and it's a nice position 
to be in now, isn't it ? 

Joseph. — I jis' want ter ax you one quession. Is it the square 
thing far you ter call the wife of yer buzzum a hog ? (Sits down.) 



THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER, 129 

Sally Anna. — I said the proper place for you now was in the 
hog-pen. And that's jnst what yon are. Any man that comes 
home as drank as yon are is a hog. 

Joseph. — Yes, jis' 'zactly. If yon've got anything ter say jis 1 
say it ; that's er way I do. 

Enter Lucy Anna Seraphina, L. 

Lucy Anna. — What does all this mean? {Looks at Joseph.) 
Is it possible ? Is it possible that my dear Joseph Smith Symington 
has gone and quaffed from the intoxicating bowl and become be- 
wildered and befuddled once more? 

Josepa. — Gone and quaffed from the 'tossicating what and 
done which? 

Lucy Anna. — Oh, my dear Joseph. I had hoped [that you 
would never again raise the flowing bowl to your lips. But the 
deed is done, and you are bewildered, befogged, befuddled and 
inebriated. 

Joseph. — Is that what it is ? — hie. Why Sally Anna said I was 
drank. 

Sally Anna. — And you are too. I never saw you as bad before. 

Joseph. — Now, look'ee here; don't jis' git at an' git up a fuss 
'bout nothin'. I s'pose I tuck a drop too much, but what's the 
difFence ? I'll git over it an' then I'll kiss all round and make up. 

Sally Anna (her voice gradually rising). — I don't want any 
drank men kissing me. If you like whisky better than you do 
me you can just go and kiss the whisky jug. (SpeaJcs loudly and 
excitedly.) I've put up with this kind of treatment long enough 
and I'll not have any more of it, and if you ever come home 
drunk again I'll larrup you till you howl again. 

Joseph. — Be carm, Sally Anna, hie — be carm. You give me 
more trouble than both the t'other wives combined. You are what 
the Scrip' ers would call er brawlin' woman. These other wives 
are the bawlin' women and you're the brawlin' woman. See? 
(Laughs.) He ! he ! Tha's purty good joke. (Rises) I guess 
I'd berrer go ter bed. (Staggers and attempts to sit down again. 
Sally Anna, who is behind him, puUs the chair and he sits down 
on the floor.) Thunder an' lightnin' ! what was that? Somethin' 
struck me. (Sits on the floor.) 



130 TEE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. n 

Juliana (weeps). — Oh, Joseph, Joseph ! 

Lucy Anna (weeps). — Oh, such a woful catastrophe ! 

Sally Anna. — I'm not going to cry any more over him. A 
drunken man always disgusted me. (To Joseph.) I say, Joseph, 
ain't you going to bed ? 

Joseph. — I ain ; t quite sure on that p'int. I thought I'd go, but 
soniethin' or other struck me an' knocked me's flat as a flounder. 

Sally Anna. — Pooh! nothing struck you. You fell just be- 
cause you're too drunk to walk. (To Juliana and Lucy Anna.) 
Come, let us give him a lift and get him out of sight. (They 
assist him to rise and steady him as he goes off.) 

Sally Anna. — Now straighten up and don't go walloping over 
again. 

Lucy Anna. — Oh, how mortifying and excruciating ! 

Juliana. — Oh, Joseph, Joseph ! this accident will caose me 
to shed many bitter, bitter tears. [Exit Joseph, L. 

Lucy Anna. — What's to be done now? 

Sally Anna. — As far as I'm concerned I know what's to be 
done. If he comes home drunk again I'll be as good as my word 
and give him a thrashing he'll remember for awhile. 

Juliana. — I have a plan. Let us all act drunk and probably 
he will feel as much disgusted as we do now. 

Lucy Anna. — That's a good suggestion, and if he keeps on get- 
ting drunk we'll keep on acting drunk. If we act well he may 
become disgusted and promise to reform. 

Sally Anna. It may do some good. When shall we get on 
our drunk. 

Juliana. — Let it be to-morrow evening and in this room. "When 
he comes home we will all be as drunk, apparently, as he is this 
evening. 

Sally Anna. — But will he'not suspect that we are only acting. 

Lucy Anna.— We are not willing to taint our breath with the 
nasty stuff, but we can have the smell of liquor on our clothes 
and this will assist greatly in deceiving him. 

Juliana.— That's a good suggestion. Then it is settled. We 
will meet here to-morrow at five. I must go now. 

Lucy Anna. — It is to be hoped that our play will not be in vain. 
[Exit Juliana, i., Lucy Anna and Sally Anna, R. 



THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 131 

SCESTE II.— Same as first. Juliana, Lucy Anna and Sally 
Ann a discovered seated. Their dresses ^re untidy and their 
heads tousled. 

Juliana.— It is nearly time for him to come. 

Lucy Anna. — I think I hear his footsteps now. 

Sally Anna. — Yes, it is Joseph. (Lucy Anna and Sally 
Anna rise.) isTow let us act well our parts. Lucy Anna and I 
will retire and you may talk to him for awhile. 

\Exit Lucy Anna and Sally Anna, X. 

Juliana. — I hope our little play will have a good effect upon 
Joseph. The love of strong drink is growing upon him and we 
must strive with all our power to prevent him from becoming a 
drunkard. 

Enter Joseph, R. 

Juliana (rising and speaking loudly). — Hello, Joe, how de 
do ? (Staggers as she goes to meet him.) How de do ? 

Joseph (stopping in astonishment).— What's the matter, 
Juliana ? 

Juliana. — Nothin's the matter, old boy ; nothin's the matter. 
I'm drefful glad ter see you. Where've you been and where are 
you goin' an' what are you goin' to do when you git there ? Why 
don't you give me a kiss jist like you used to ? You look't me 
like's if you did'nt know me. But I reckon you're only actin' out. 
I'm your wife, Juliana Evalina. 

Joseph (aside).— Is it possible that the woman's been drinking ? 

Juliana. — Well, if you won't talk to me I'll go and sit down 
again, (Staggers.) I can't walk very straight anyhow. Things 
seem to be kind 'f unsteady round here. (Going towards chair.) 
I wish that chair'd keep still for a minute and a half, if I can 
ketch it I'll sit down. Fact of the matter is, I don't feel like 
standin.' Things have got to whirlin' round so that I kind 'f 
think it's not very safe to stand. (Springs at chair as if to catch 
it and after some difficulty in turning herself round she seats 
herself) Xow I guess I've got you and I'll stick to you. What's 
er use of gittin' up to meet Joe when Joe won't speak nor gim me 
a kiss nor no thin' ? If Joe wants ter kiss me now he'll have ter 
come here. I ain't goin' ter run after Joe nor anybody else. 



132 THE BEFOBMED MOBHON TIPPLER. 

(Leans back in her chair and looks at Joseph.) Joe, what yer 
talkin' about ? I hajn't heard you talk so fast for a long spell. 
Jist hold on now and let me git a word in edgeways. (Pulls a 
bottle out of her pocket.) I reckon Joe'd think I had enough for 
one time, but I don't think so, I've got started now and 1*11 go 
ahead. (Takes a drink out of the dottle.) Tha's pur'y good eider 
or gooseberry braD'y or whatever it is. I tell you it jis' warms 
me up an' makes me feel glorious. (Joseph seats himself on a 
chair and seems to be very much distressed. He covers his face 
with his hands.) I guess I could sing a song. I feel more like 
singin' now than I've felt for six weeks. If I could git the pitch 
I would go it. (Sings as if to obtain the proper pitch.) Do mi 
do ; do si la sol mi do. (Sings (( Little Brown Jug" and flourishes 
the bottle.) 

" My wife and I live all alone 

In a little log Irut we call our own ; 
She loves gin and I love rum — 
I tell you now we've lots of fun. 

Choeus.— Ha, ha, ha, you and me, 

Little brown jug, don't I love thee ? 

Ha, ha, ha ! you and me, 

Little brown jug don't I love thee ? 

Joseph (straightening up and speaking with severity). — Juliana, 
what do you mean? Don't you know you're disgracing yourself 
and disgracing the children? Throw that bottle away and get 
up and go to bed. 

Juliana. — Throw that bottle away and do which and go 
how? 

Joseph. — I say go to bed. You've disgraced yourself and me 
too. This is awfol — terrible ! 

Juliana.— Oh, no, this isn't ter'ble— this 's jolly ! Haven't 
felt so glorious for six weeks. I could sing all night. Jis' hold 
on till I give you another touch of the " Little Brown Jug." 
(Sings again and flourishes her bottle.) 

** If I had a cow that gave such milk 
I'd dress her in the finest silk ; 
I'd feed her on the choicest hay 
And milk her forty times a day." 



THE REFORMED MORMON TIPPLER. 133 

Enter Lucy Anna, L., carrying a bottle. She joins in and assists 
Juliana in singing the chorus. 

" Ha, ha, ha ! you and me, 
Little brown jug, don't I love thee? 
Ha, ha, ha ! you and me, 
^n Little brown jug, don't I love thee ? 

Joseph (to Lucy Anna). — Is it possible that you are drunk 
too? 

Lucy Anna. — Well, that's nothin'. You git drunk, Joe, an' 
hain't I jis's good a right to git drunk as you ? I ain't goin' to 
do as I have been doin'. I want ter have some fun ; I want ter 
git on a bustihcation occasionally. Isn't that fair ? It's purty 
jolly ter git on a drunk — yes, it's awful jolly, and I ain't much 
surprised that you like it so well. (Staggers.) I guess I'd better 
sit down. 

Juliana. — Yes, sit down. Things are mighty unsteady round 
here. 

Lucy Anna (seats herself). — I wish my neck was about three 
feet long. (Holds iij? the bottle.) This tastes awful good as it 
goes gurglin' down. Juliana, let us go it again. 

Juliana. — Here we go. (Juliana and Lucy Anna flourish 
their bottles.) 

Joseph. — Oh, this is terrible, terrible ! Two of my wives drunk 
and probably the other one in the same condition. Oh, I am 
disgraced forever. 

Lucy Anna. — Look 'ee here, Joe; don't be so unreasonable. 
I ain't so awful drunk but I can argufy the case. Didn't you get 
drunk yesterday and disgrace us ? Then haven't we a right to 
get drunk to-day and disgrace you? Isn't time about fair play? 

Joseph. — Yes, I know I did wrong, but it is awful to see women 
drunk. It always makes me sick. 

Lucy Anna. — And it always makes me sick to see a man drunk. 
It is a very disgusting sight. But I'll tell you how it is Joe. 
We've been thinkin' the matter over and we've concluded that if 
you are goin' to go on and get drunk and disgrace us, we'll go on 
and get drunk and disgrace you. If we have to go to destruction 
we may jis's well go a flyin' and all go together. We'll have to 
go anyhow and we may as well go rapidly and feel jolly as 



134 THE REFOBMED MORMON TIPPLER. 

we go. Juliana, Lets have another song. (Raises Tier bottle and 

drinks.) 

Juliana.— Yes, we'll have another song. (She si?igs, assisted 

by Lucy Anna.) 

Tune, " John Brown's Body Lies Mouldering in the Grrave.'' 

Our Joseph got upon a burst and gave himself away, 

Our Joseph got upon a burst and gave himself away, 

Our Joseph got upon a burst and gave himself away. 

But we will go along. 

Enter Sally Anna, L. 

Sally Anna. — Hello, Joe, how de do ? How's all the folks ? 

Joseph. — And you're drunk too ! 

Sally Anna. — Yes, 'f course. I may jis's well have a — hie — 
jolly as you. If you go on a bender, why can't we go on a bender? 
That's the question. If you run round and drink at the droggeries 
— hie — why can't we drink at home ? I tell you, Joe, it's kinder 
joyful to git on a bender. Xow, when we're got it started s'pose 
we jis' keep it up. Let's keep drinkin' away— hie— and drinkm' 
away until we are clean out of money and the children haven't 
got a rag to their backs. TTouldn't that be jolly for the children? 
Of course it would. The children wouldn't care, and — hie— and if 
they did care what'd be the diff'ence? (Staggers.) I guess I'd 
berrer sit down. (Seats herself.) 

Joseph. — I feel that I am painfully disgraced. 

Sally Anna. — That's jis' the way we felt about it last evenin'. 
You came home drunk and made us all feel mis' able — hie — and 
now we've got on a high and you feel mis' able. 

Joseph. — Oh,- dear! oh, dear! (Sits down and seems to be in 
deep distress.) 

Sallv Anna. — Juliana, let's have another song. 

Juliana.— Guess I'd better take another dram before I com- 
mence. 

Sally Anna. — Give me the bottle. You do the singin' and 
I'll do the drinkin'. 

Juliana. — Guess not, Sally Anna; I can do both jis 's easy as 
not. 

Joseph. — I beseech you, wives, don't drink any more — don't. 
I implore you, 



THE BEFOBMED MOBMON TIPPLEB: 135 

Sally Anna. — What's the difference for one or two drams ? — 
needn't be so partic'lar. I've got started on a big jolly and I 
want to go ahead. 

Joseph (rising and speaking earnestly). — Listen to me. I 
have a proposition to make to yon if yon are not too drunk to 
give it consideration. 

Juliana. — Go ahead with your proposition, Joe. 

Lucy Anna. — Yes, we are ready to hear. 

Sally Anna. — Speak out, Joe. 

Joseph. — I'm afraid yon are all to much intoxicated to 
understand. 

Sally Anna. — I feel purty glorious, but I guess I can under- 
stand. Go ahead. 

Lucy Anna. — Yes, Joseph, proceed. 

Joseph. — If you will each promise me that you will never 
drink another drop of intoxicating liquor I will make the same 
promise to you. 

Juliana. — It's a bargain, and here's my hand on it. (Staggers 
up to Joseph and he takes her liand.) 

Lucy Anna. — I'm agreed too, and I make the promise. 
(Staggers up to Joseph and extends her hand.) Here's my hand, 
Joe. 

Joseph (takes her hand). — I am really glad to obtain your 
promise. Xow, what do you say, Sally Anna f 

Sally Anna.— Fact of the matter is, I like whisky mighty well. 
It sort of enlivens me and makes me feel happy and glorious. 

Joseph. — But on account of the children you ought to give it 
up. Think of how they will be disgraced if you continue to 
drink. 

Sally Anna. — Well, jes's you say. (Staggers up to Joseph 
and extends her hand. Joseph takes it.) I give you my promise 
that I will never again drink intoxicating liquor of any kind. 

Joseph. — And I promise you all the same. 

Juliana. — Joe, — we accept the conditions, and expect you have 
power enough to fulfill them as thoroughly and as conscientiously 
as we shall. 

Joseph. — Indeed I will. 

Lucy Anna, — We believe you. But, please make no mistake. 



136 THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 

"VTe would not soil our mouths with liquor on any account. We 
are all as sober as you are. 

Sally Anna.— Certainly we are. It was only a little plot of 
ours to shew you how ridiculous, how repulsive, a person is when 
intoxicated; to let you see yourself as others see you. 

Joseph.— Oh— I am glad to find that your inebriation was not 
real, after all. Although drunkenness is terrible in a woman, I 
begin to see that it must be almost as bad in a man. You have 
given me a lesson which shall not be thrown away upon me. My 
hand upon it. (Tiiey all grasp his right hand. ) [Tableaux. 
CURTAIN. 



THE FORTUNE HUNTER ' 

OR, 

'LISTENERS NEVEK HEAK ANY GOOD OF 
THEMSELVES." 

By Ellen Pickering. 
: (See note to Dialogue entitled " THE UNCLE," Page 28). 



CHARACTERS. 



Capt. Seymour de Hauteyllle. I Mr. Gossip. 

Mrs. Bond. Miss Cleave. 



Enter Captain Seymour de Haute yille, with a conceited air. 

De Hauteyille, — Tolerably successful, I guess. Macle a 
sensation, ; pon honor. Thought my mustaches would do the 
work. JSTothing like mustaches ! They give me a mi/ 
look, and then, they are so convenient to twirl when one does 
not know what to say. One can make a twirl so expressive : it 
can so plainly say — keep your distance — I am Sir Oracle — I defy 
you — or, and above all, I love you ; and yet you have not 
committed yourself in words. Then it hides an ugly mouth, 



THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 137 

not that this is my case — the De Hautevilles are famous for their 

mouths. A capital idea that, my dropping the Smith and taking 

the name of Hauteville. As well have no name as Smith : there is 

.nothing distinctive— nothing distingui in it — every third man is 

a Smith : it designates onr individual sex no more than the word 

man. There are men — there are Smiths : six of one and half a 

dozen of the other, it seems to me : true, there have been some 

distinguished men of the name, for whom one would not care to 

be mistaken, but the ill-natured world will be sure to saddle me 

with all the follies, vulgarities, and impertinences of all the Jack 

and Tom Smiths under the sun; ay, and under the moon too. 

Wise woman, my godmother — would have me christened 

Seymour— aristocratic name that — very. Yes, yes I shall drop 

the Smith, and be Seymour de Hauteville till I have made my 

fortune, and won an heiress. There is a great deal in a name, 

let poets say what they will. How should poets know anything 

of the way to get on in the world ? Poor, beggardly fellows : never 

know where to get a meal ? Who ever heard of poet making his 

fortune ? 

"The feast of reason and the flow of soul." 

Pooh, give me 

" The feast of turtle, of champagne the flow.'' 

Seymour de Hauteville is no poet, thank the fates : he will make 
his fortune — he will many an heiress — Marry for love, indeed ! 
And what is love? A mere fancy — an immaterial nothing. 
Can you see it ? can you touch it ? can you weigh it ? can you 
measure it? above all, can you eat it? can you drink it? can 
you sell it ? No, no : marry for money ; that is the thing. 
Gold can be seen, touched, measured, weighed ; and will furnish 
forth baked meats and boiled; fish, fowl, and frothy cream. I 
have two heiresses in my mind — two strings to my bow. There 
are Miss Cleave and Mrs. Bond. They have no beauty, to be 
sure, that is, in their faces ; but then their pockets ! A griffin's 
head looks handsome when gilt. Mrs. Bond has three thousand 
a year certain, they say; and her husband, the great broker, 
some think, left her more : but she took care to have all her 
fortune settled on herself, and she might do that again. 
"Widows are apt to be knowing — they have been behind the 



138 THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 

scenes, and are not so easily deceived or wheedled. Then Miss 
Cleave, the great timber-merchant's daughter, has $500,000 at 
her own disposal. To be sure, they say, she is rather sharp 
edged : never mind, two can play at that : she may cut me, 
nevertheless I will cleave to her. Ha, ha, ha ! Rather a clever 
thing that ; but no one ever gives me credit for saying clever 
things. Yet no, I will not quite decide till I have seen them 
again : I should not like to drive either to despair. Both seemed 
struck with me, but I am used to that ; with my face and figure 
it could not well be otherwise. (Looks at himself conceitedly 
in a glass from top to toe). Hark ! there are voices coming this 
way. Mrs. Bond and Miss Cleave as I live, with Dicky Gossip. 
I catch the words— distinguished stranger. That must mean me. 
I will just slip behind this screen, and hear what they say, before 
I decide which lady shall be honored with my hand: Of course, 
they will praise me ; but there is no one here to see my blushes. 
(Goes behind the screen). 

Enter Mrs. Bond, Miss Cleave, and Mr. Gossip. 

Mrs. Bond. — Do you know anything of that whiskered, mus- 
tached, dirty-looking little man who would dance with me last 
night at the Assembly ? I did not wish the introduction, being 
very particular on that point, but he was so pertinacious that at 
last I consented. Mr. Seymour de Hauteville, I think, is his 
name. His flattery was really fulsome. 

Gossip. — There are few people, I believe, Mrs. Bond, of 
whom I do not know something. I never confine myself to one 
line of study, but make myself acquainted with most -things. 
This Mr. de Hauteville, as he chooses to call himself 

Miss Cleave. — Should change his name to de Basseville. I 
never met with such vulgar, impertinent, self-sufficiency in my life. 

Gossip. — Just so : his name is no more de Hauteville than 
mine is : it is Smith. I have been at great pains to ferret this 
out : you know I never rest till I have found out the truth. 

Miss Cleave. — Smith ! What, that vulgar, pushing Tom 
Smith, that Captain Benson was talking of yesterday. 

Mrs. Bond. — Or that horrid, vulgar Jack Smith, I think they 
called him, down in Jersey. 



THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 139 

Gossip. — I should not wonder; or that impudent fellow James 
Smith, who swindled Mr. Dalton out of three thousand dollars. 

De Hatjteville {aside, behind the screen). — I knew they 
would father all the doings of the Tom Smiths, and the Jack 
Smiths, and the Jem Smiths upon me. I was sure I should have 
all the sins of all the Smiths to bear, should my real name be 
known. But what is in a name? I could not help my father 
being a Smith. 

Mias Cleave. — False name! He is a swindler, you may be 
sure. I thought he was from the first with his chains, and his 
rings, and his forward manner, and large talking. 

Gossip. — I should not wonder. Look to your watches and 
brooches, ladies, should he meet you in a lonely place. 

Mrs. Bond. — It may be as well ; yet he talked of his regiment, 
his brother officers, etc. 

Gossip. — A. month or so with the militia. Nothing more, my 
dear madam, I assure you. You may depend on my information, 
for I make it the business of my life to learn the truth about 
every one I meet. I have no patience with those stupid people 
wh#>, contenting themselves with the saying that one half of the 
world does not know how the other half lives, never inquire into 
the concerns of their neighbors. I have an inquiring mind, and 
learn all I can. He did not give the name of his regiment, I 
suspect ! 

Miss Cleave. — Oh, no ! and evaded the question when I asked 
him, but talked very grandly of our mess — and " ours." "We 
never mix with the canaille — we never dance but with the highest, 
richest, and loveliest in the room." Insufferably vulgar coxcomb! 
I should have cut him short at once last night, but his consum- 
mate vanity aroused me. Bo you know, Mrs. Bond, he moro 
than hinted that you were particularly struck with him, and in- 
sisted on being introduced ? 

Mrs. Bond. — Exactly what he hinted to me of you. 

Miss Cleave. — The vulgar puppy! A regular swindler. I 
remember now, he did look at my amethyst necklace wich thiev- 
ish look, and made many remarks on your jewels. It is well we 
lost nothing last night. Suppose, Mr. Gossip, you give the police 
a hint just to keep an eye upon him. Depend upon it, he intends 



140 THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 

to reap a rich harvest of rings, watches, and brooches. I daresay 
those he wore were stolen. 

Gossip.— He expects to reap a richer harvest than that; he 
expects to marry an heiress— Mrs. Bond or Miss Cleave. 

Mrs. Bond. — Marry me ! The man must be mad, and should 
be shut up. 

Miss Cleave. — Marry me ! Preposterous ! He deserves to be 
locked-up for the bare idea. I should be in a rage, if I could 
help laughing at the folly of the thing. Such a dirty-looking, 
vulgar little coxcomb, to think of winning my hand — a crawling 
black beetle, that I could scarcely deign to put my foot upon. 
Ha, ha, ha ! Keally it is too ridiculous. Mr. Seymour de Haute- 
ville. Suppose we go and give a hint to the police. I think I 
shall send my jewels to the safe-deposit till he has taken his de- 
parture. 

Mrs. Bond.— Yes, we had better beg the police to keep an 
eye upon him. 

Grossip. — Tou are quite right, and I shall be nappy to escort 
you, lest he should encounter you, and make a snatch at your 
watches. 

Miss Cleave. — Very good indeed ! {Exeunt. 

De Hauteville {creeping from oeliind the screen, and look- 
ing cautiously round). — So they are gone at last. I thought 
they never would have done. What tongues ! But when women 
once begin, there is no telling when they will come to an end. 
Sharp indeed, Miss Cleave ; I would as soon many a two-edged 
sword. And that news-ferret Dicky Gossip ! It would be a 
pleasure to give him a drubbing. An inquiring mind, indeed ! 
must learn everything concerning his neighbors. If he had not 
found out that my name was Smith, it would all have gone right. 
Look to their chains and watches truly — let him look to his 
head ! Bid the police keep an eye on me ! To think that I 
should hear all this when I expected to hear them praise me de 
haut en oas. Dirty, vulgar-looking, little coxcomb ! when I ex- 
pected them to be in raptures with my tout ensemNe. Xot a 
word of ecstasy about my mustache even, that I have been 
coaxing these six months, keeping myself as secluded as a giant, 
till they were fit to be seen. I shall be off within the hour : the 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 141 

game is up here, and never again will I creep behind a screen to 
listen to what people say of me. Here is a verification of the old 
adage, indeed. My ears are tingling still. 

[Exit, creeping out. 
CURTAIN. 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

By Miss Chapman. 



CHARACTERS. 
John Raynor. Harry Ashford. 

Mabel, Ms niece. Mrs. Wiggins. 



SCENE* I. — Sitting-room. John Eaynor seated reading. 
Enter Mabel with icorh. 

John. — Come here, pet, and sit down by the fire ! What are 
your industrious little fingers busy at now? 

Mabel. — A pair of slippers for your Christmas present, uncle. 
Don't you think they will be pretty ? 

John. — I'll venture their being pretty, without so much as 
looking at them ! nothing that comes from your tasteful fingers 
could by any possibility be otherwise. What a good little girl it 
is, to be sure, to be always thinking of ancle John ! what can I 
do in return for such a handsome present ? 

Mabel {aside). — Now is my time to ask him, if ever, while he 
is in a good humor — {aloud) — Uncle — 

John.— Well, pet? 

Mabel. — Uncle, I was thinking of a present, and a very ac- 
ceptable one, too, that you could make me, if you were so 
disposed ; and it wouldn't cost you any money, either ! 

John. — JSTo money, eh? what an economical little puss it is, 
to be sure ! you are a rarity among girls in that respect, Mabel, 
I must confess! But what is the wonderful present? don't let 
me do all the talking. 



142 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

Mabel. — "Well uncle, Harry Ashford was here this afternoon, 
and he said — 

John (interrupting). — The deuce ! 

Mabel (pouting).— Indeed he didn't use any such objectionable 
expletive as that at all, uncle John! what he said was vastly 
more interesting, I can tell you ! 

John. — Oh I dare say ! such nonsense is always wonderfully 
interesting to a silly young couple not out of their teens ! I 
thought I had put an end to all that ful-de-rol long ago ; and I 
am surprised at you, Mabel, for encouraging him, after I ex- 
pressly forbade you receiving his visits or attentions ! 

Mabel. — But uncle — 

John. — You needn't say a word ! I won't have him hanging 
around, and that's the end of it ! If I see him here again, I'll 
have a police warrant after him ! 

Mabel (soooing).-l didn't think you could be so cruel, uncle 
John ! what objections have you to him, pray? 

John (angrily). — Every objection. Erery summer he goes off 
to the country no one knows where, frittering away his time in 
the laziest manner imaginable, and comes home with only a lot 
of unfinished sketches to show as his summer's work, instead of 
sticking to his profession as young men were obliged to do in my 
early days. His time is worse than wasted. 

Mabel. — You can't expect that the world will remain in the 
same identical state that it was in in your early days, uncle John ! 
Besides you know his father gives even the clerks a vacation 
during part of the summer ; and Harry as his partner ought 
surely to be entitled to it. He goes on account of his health ; 
and as he has plenty of money, and can afford it, I don't see that 
it is anybody's business ! 

John.— It shall be none of my business or yours, then, to have 
any thing to do with any such shiftless young fellows ! Besides 
I'm determined to have you marry my nephew George Wilson ; 
what little money I have to endow you with I want kept in the 
family. 

Mabel.— George Wilson, indeed ! I'd die an old maid, first ! 
You know very well that I never could endure the sight of him, 
uncle John I 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 143 

John. — Just make np your mind to begin and endure him as 
speedily as possible then ; for your destiny as his wife is irrevo- 
cably fixed. He's a fine young man, and considered an excellent 
match ; and you may consider yourself well off to be so desirably 
settled in life ; as you would if you were a sensible girl. 

Mabel. — Uncle John, you may shut me up in a dark room, or 
feed me on bread and Water, or do any other cruel thing you 
please, but I never, never will marry George Wilson ; so there! 

John. — I'll give you until to-morrow to get over your foolish 
tantrum. George promised to call in the evening and I gave him 
to understand that you would be ready to receive him favorably. 
So you had better set to work and dismiss that good-for-nothing 
Harry from your mind, and give George a suitable answer, or I 
may be obliged to resort to the bread and water treatment, to 
bring you to your senses. Kemember you are under my protec- 
tion and authority, and I expect to be obeyed. 

Mabel. — I'm not going to give up my Harry ! it would just 
break my heart to think of marrying anybody else ! 

John. — Fiddlesticks ! women's hearts are not so easily broken 
as all that, whatever these highflown romances and ten cent 
novels may say to the contrary. I'll wager you won't eat an 
ounce of beefsteak or one biscuit the less, for dismissing Harry ! 
and you and George will soon be good friends enough. So be a 
sensible girl and obey my wishes, and you shall have a splendid 
Christmas present, whatever you like, and no matter about the 
expense. 

Mabel. — Go away ! I don't want any present or any thing else! 
there's no use in my attempting to live any longer ! I may as 
well die at once and be done with it ! 

John. — Oh no fear of your dying ! I don't apprehend the slightest 
decline in your health ! I will leave you, now, to get over your 
sulks ; only remember when George comes that I expect you to 
behave in accordance with my wishes, and that you are not to 
think of or mention Harry Ashford's name again. If he calls, Til 
interview him ! [Exit Uncle John. 

Mabel (bursting into tears). — If uncle John is'nt the most 
heartless man that ever lived ! I believe I am the most wretched, 
ill-used girl on the face of the earth. (A knock is heard)— There ! 



144 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

that's some company I suppose ! I don't care if it is ; they may 
come right in and see me as I am, and Fll tell them how hard 
hearted uncle John is to make me so unhappy ! Oh deai ! oh dear! 

Enter Harry Ashford. 

IIarry (throwing his arm around her). — Why, what is the 
matter with my rosehud ; my jewel ? What has happened to de- 
stroy my little girl's peace of mind on the very afternoon that I 
have come to make it all right with uncle John. 

Mabel. — Oh Harry, I'm so wretched ! 

Harry. — I should thiuk so; if appearances are any evidence ! 
Wliat's the trouble, pet f I'm all attention ! 

Mabel. — It's no use, Harry ! no use in our trying or expecting 
to be happy ! Uncle John declares that I shall marry that odious 
nephew of his, George Wilson, and he says he will have a police 
warrant after you if he sees you here again ! 

Harry. — Hear me ! that's positively awful ! makes a fellow 
feel nervous, I declare ! are you sure there is'nt an officer con- 
cealed behind one of those heavy window curtains, even now, 
Mabel, waiting to pounce upon poor unsuspecting me without a 
moment's warning ? 

Mabel. — Oh don't make sport of it, Harry ! I'm too miserable 
to laugh ! 

Harry. — "Well then seriously, my love, do you think that the 
police force of the whole city, with the militia to back 'em, would 
keep me away from you? If I thought you loved this George 
Wilson, I would step out of the way at once, and leave the field 
free for him, but since you have given me pretty confidently to 
understand that you prefer me. you little rogue, I mean to stand 
by my banner under all hazards ! So let uncle John come on I'm 
ready for him ! 

Mabel. — Harry, you make me laugh in spite of myself ! But 
really, uncle John is determined and I am under his control until 
I am of age, you know, which unfortunately will not be for some 
time yet. So what to do I don't know, only that I never will 
marry George Wilson ! 

Harry. — Bravo ! liberty forever ! you are a true descendant 
of republican ancestors, Mabel ! And now let us cudgel our 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 145 

brains and see what way we can contrive to get ont of this pre- 
dicament. Your sex is given the credit of being more clever 
than ours, nnder all circumstances, and in these days of women's 
rights aud petticoat government, you ought to be able to come 
out " best man/' even from such an unpromising looking position 
as this. 

Mabel {smiling). — You're right, Harry; I declare you are 
enough to inspire courage and enterprise in any one ! and I will 
not be the first to bring discredit upon the well merited reputa- 
tion of my sex for ingenuity and cleverness. 

Harry. — Well done ! and now to carry out that most laudable 
resolution. Let me see — uncle John is not the only relative who 
was constituted your guardian, is he ? 

Mabel. — There! you've just hit it, Harry! a most splendid 
idea has popped into my head ! I'll show uncle John that " petti- 
coat government " can circumvent all his schemes and even his 
authority. Oh how delightful ! 

Harry, — Mabel, Mabel, do take some pity on me, and en- 
lighten me as to this delightful project. Don't you see that I am 
absolutely dying with curiosity ? 

Mabel (smiling). — Take my smelling-bottle Harry ! it may 
revive you a little ! But just come a little closer, and I'll tell you. 

Harry {putting his arm around her and hissing her). — There ! 
is that close enough ? will that suit? 

Mabel. — Harry behave yourself; you good-for-nothing fellow ! 
I only meant for you to sit near enough so that no one might 
hear us ! 

Harry {hissing her again). — Oh, I understand ! "Well I'll take 
that kiss back again, Mabel ! so proceed. 

Mabel. — Harry, you are perfectly incorrigible ! I have a great 
mind not to tell you a single word, and I don't know that I 
will, as it is, unless you promise to behave yourself. 

Harry. — Well I promise; so now let me hear this splendid 
plan that is going to put the enemy to indiscriminate route, and 
make us all happy for the rest of our natural lives ! Don't keep 
a fellow waiting any longer, that's an angel. 

Mabel. — Oh no indeed, I'm not an angel ! and I warn you 
beforehand not' to, build any extravagant expectations upon such 



146 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

a hypothesis ! But now listen, you rattlebrain and don't inter- 
rupt me again. Now listen. (Tliey converse apart.) There ! 
Harry, what do you think of that plan. 

Harry. — I have the same opinion of it that I have of its 
originator, that it is excellent, admirable, incomparable. 

Mabel. — Oh don't smother me with your superlatives ! Don't 
you think my plan a feasible one ? now do be serious Harry, 
for once ! 

Harry. — What an imputation upon my established gravity of 
character ! But seriously, Mabel, I do think it can be success- 
fully carried out, with a little care and diplomacy, and lead 
eventually to the results we desire. And then my darling ! — 

Enter Uncle John. 

John. — What is the meaning of this ! how do you presume to 
enter my house, sir, and you miss, how dare you encourage and 
countenance him, after my strict commands to you not an hour 
ago! 

Mabel. — Why uncle, he came before I knew it; and I could 
not send him away, I'm sure ! 

John (wrathfully). — I can, then ! Just understand, sir, that I 
am not to see your face here again ! I have the disposal of my 
niece's hand, and it shall never be given to a person of your 
thriftless, wandering disposition. I believe we understand each 
other. I have the pleasure to bid you good-evening. 

Harry. — Good-evening, sir! I am sorry to have incurred 
your displeasure, and am unconscious of any demeanor on my 
part that should have deserved it ; but since those are your sen- 
timents I can but submit — (passing Mabel — aside) — Keep up a 
good heart, chicky ! I'll write to you every day, and it will all 
come out right in the end. I've half a mind to scandalize uncle 
John by kissing you for good-bye right before him. 

Mabel (pushing Mm off).— 'No, don't, Harry; it would make 
him so terribly angry. Good-bye. - 

John.— Young man are you going to start, or shall I call in an 
officer to eject you. 

Harry.— Don't put yourself to any such inconvenience, sir, I 
am going immediately. Good-evening. 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 147 

John. — That's the second time ! there is no need of wasting 
any time in ceremony ! the best way you can signify your respect 
for me, if you have any, is by getting out of my sight as quickly 
as possible ! 

Mabel.— Uncle John, I didn't know you were such a bear. I 
am actually ashamed of you ! [Exit Harry. 

John. - It's no more than I may expect, I suppose, than to be 
maligned for doing my duty. That young scamp has received 
his walking ticket now, in sufficiently intelligible words, I hope, 
and there will be an end of his coming around here ! 

Mabel {sobbing). — Yes, you can congratulate yourself upon 
having destroyed my happiness forever, uncle John ! However, 
it's not likely either Harry or myself will trouble you by our 
company for some time to come, at least ! 

John. — What do you mean by that, you minx ? You haven't 
been contriving any crazy scheme of an elopement, have you ? 

Mabel. — You need give yourself no apprehension on that score, 
uncle John, I'm not one of the eloping kind. But I'm going to 
pay aunt Mary a visit, and stay through the holidays, possibly 
until Spring. It was part of the arrangement of your guardian- 
ship, that I should have the privilege of spending three months 
every year with her. I gave it up last year, to please you ; but 
since matters have taken this course, I am resolved to avail 
myself of what few pleasures I have a right to control ; so I shall 
probably stay six months, this time. If I can't see Harry, at 
least I will be away from him. 

John. — Well, but I don't know about this, Mabel ! I don't 
see how I can spare you, very well. Who's to do the cookiDg, 
and tend to things around the house ? 

Mabel. — So my chief attractiveness lies in the number of meals 
I prepare, and the amount of work I perform, eh ? I am much 
obliged for the compliment, I'm sure ! 

John. — No, it isn't exactly that ; but I don't think — 

Mabel. — It is my privilege, sir, and I shall require it. And 
as for the cooking and so on, you can hire a housekeeper who 
will take charge of such matters until I come back. 

John. — A housekeeper ! Mabel, you know very well that I 
never could endure to have a stranger around ! 



148 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

Mabel.— We are all obliged to submit to unpleasant inconve- 
niences, sir, and your turn must come with the rest, I suppose. 
I have set my mind upon going, and I cannot alter my plans on 
any consideration ! 

John. — And what is to become of that pair of slippers that I 
was to have for a Christmas present? 

Mabel. — Oh, they can lay over for another year; you have 
several half worn pairs now, that you can use ; and I shall wish 
to prepare a present for aunt Mary, since I am to enjoy her 
hospitality. 

John.— All right! do as you please, then! a wilful woman 
will have her way in spite of all odds ! You're bound to be the 
death of me yet, I see very well ! What time are you going to 
start? 

Mabel. — To-morrow afternoon, uncle. I'd thank you to have 
the carriage ready for me in time to catch the three o'clock train. 

John. — To-morrow? so soon as that? Why George Wilson is 
coming in the evening, and expected to see you 

Mabel. — I don't believe he would find my society at all enter- 
taining. As it is you will have to make extra efforts at being 
agreeable, uncle John, as I don't intend to alter my arrangements 
a particle, on his, or any one else's account ! 

John. — Mabel, you are enough to provoke a saint, I declare ! 

Mabel {roguishly). — Do you consider yourself a fair specimen 
of the " stuff that saints are made of" uncle John? If so my 
ideas of those worthies will take a less exalted turn ! 

John. — Hold your tongue, you saucy minx, before I forget 
• that you are out of short dresses, and box your ears soundly ! 
Was ever a poor man so afflicted as I am. 

Mabel. — In that case the prospect of getting rid of the 
"affliction "for a number of months ought to be a subject of 
profound congratulation to you, uncle John ! It shall be my es- 
pecial object, to spare you the wear and tear of my perversity for 
as long a time as possible. 

John. — What has got into that girl all of a sudden? Until 
now she has been a demure, shy little thing, apparently a strauger 
to anything like remonstrance, and now she blossoms out into a 
full fledged bird, with her wings all spread and ready for flight. 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT 149 

Mabel (laughing). — It is only the free independent spirit of an 
American citizen manifesting itself, uncle John! "Taxation 
without representation is tyranny ;'' and where my services are 
taxed, there I mean to have my rights and wishes represented ; 
so you can play John Bull, and Fll be a sort of Sister Jonathan, 
and rebel ; which I intend to do forthwith ! Does that enlighten 
you any ? 

John. — Well I move that we quit this sparring, for we only 
come around to the same spot, without making any progress. 
Get your traps together, and I'll order Dan to have the carriage 
ready in time. I suppose I can manage to exist until you come 
back. [Ex-it Uncle John. 

Mabel. — So much for the first installment of petticoat govern- 
ment; it works finely already ! Xow to notify aunt Mary, that 
I'm coming, and then for the accomplishment of my project. 
We'll see who is the smartest, uncle John ! you with your fifty- 
five years of incorrigible bachelordom, or your niece with her 
eighteen summers. [Exit Mabel. 



SCESTE II.— Same as first. 
Enter Mabel equipped for travelling ; with Uncle John. 

Mabel. — Goodbye, uncle John ! has Dan got everything on 
the carriage ? two trunks, three bandboxes, and a little hand- 
satchel — that was all, I believe. 

John. — Yes! they're all in; I saw to them myself; though 
what women want with such a mountain of baggage is more than 
I can see ! One would think you were going to Europe, or some 
out of the way, desert place where you never expected to get 
anything more to wear for the rest of your natural life ! 

Mabel. — In the event of the latter place being my destination 
I think I should dispense with luggage altogether ! but you 
need'nt try to cast any slurs upon the place of my proposed visit! 
If aunt Mary's house is small and in the country, it's a perfect 
little bird's nest for comfort and coziness. and I know I shall 
have a delightful time. 

John. — Humph ! hope you. may ; I'm sure ! And is all remem- 



150 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

brance of my existence to be utterly ignored, during your 
sojourn abroad, may I ask? 

Mabel. — >s ot quite, uncle John ! although you have treated 
me so cruelly, I'll think enough of your comfort to send you a 
letter once in a while ! 

John. — Much obliged ! I don't know that it will add to my 
comfort very materially, but I want to be able to keep 
track of you, so as to know wnether you get into any mischief or 
not, or run up any extravagant bills for me to settle. 

Mabel. — Crusty to the last, eh? £Tow you see if you would 
only have consented to be a little considerate and have let Harry 
and me be happy in our own way all this might have been 
prevented. 

John. — Don't mention that young rascal's name in my hearing 
again. If it hadn't been for him, there would have been none of 
this trouble. But that's just the way it is ; once let a girl contract 
a foolish notion for a fellow, and the more good for nothing he is, 
the more pertinaciously she'll hold on to him. Thank fortune I 
never got married ! 

Mabel. — Perhaps there may be some female enjoying the con- 
tent and freedom of single blessedness who can reciprocate your 
congratulation, uncle John ! I'm sure I wouldn't be* your wife 
for a kingdom ! But I mustn't stand here talking or I may lose 
the train. Once more, good-bye uncle John. 

John {kissing her). — Good-bye, you foolish, wilful girl! I 
expect nothing else than that you'll be homesick in a week's time, 
and be glad enough to come home again. 

Mabel. — Don't be too sure uncle John ! Look out that you 
are not the first one to want matters restored to their old condi- 
tion. I hope you will have as good a time as I shall, — that's all. 

John. — I don't see how I'm going to manage about the meals 
and so on, that's a fact ! 

^Tab^l. — Why, do as other people would under similar erner- 
tdvertise for a housekeeper, and take your meals at a 
until she comes. But I mustn't stay another minute ; 
trouble yourself to come out, Dan can help me into the car- 
riage ; and look out for a letter from me about the middle of next 
week. And as I don't intend to exile myself permanently from 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT 151 

you, I'll not say " good-bye " but " au revoir.' [Exit Mabel. 
John (throwing himself into a chair). — There she goes! and 
I may as well give up the idea of living any longer ; for I don't 
believe there's another individual on the face of the earth, that 
can take charge of and superintend household matters like she 
can, to suit me, at all events! Confound the perverse little 
minx ! why couldn't she settle down with George, as I wish her 
to, instead of taking herself off in this defiant fashion, and put- 
ting me to all this trouble ! Oh dear ! dear ! what it is to be a 
guardian ! But there is no use in wasting time in lamentations, 
I suppose ; I'll have to advertise, as she suggested, and I may as 
well set about it first as last ; and then instead of having my 
Mabel's bright face looking at me across the table, no doubt I'll 
have a fussy old woman, whose only recreation will be her 
snuff- box, and counting her wrinkles every morning ! Oh con- 
found it all ! what a pickle I have got myself into, to be sure ! 

[Exit Uncle John. 

SCEXE TH.— Same as before; a door B. 
Enter Uncle John. 

John. — ^Vell ! here's three days, and three advertisements in 
the newspaper, and no sign of that necessary evil yet. I've 
slept in pretty nearly every bed in the house, gone twice in a 
pouring shower to get my meals, and no nearer prospect of a 
change for the better than at the first, that I can see. This is a 
delightful state of domestic affairs for a man of my age, I must 
confess ! It almost makes me wish I had got married, after all; 
for I could at least have had sufficient authority over my wife to 
keep her from flying all over the country, and leaving me to 
starve. (A knock at the door.) There! who's that! the house- 
keeper, I suppose ! Confound the whole kit and bang of them ! 
But I suppose I must go and see what he or she wants ! (Opens 
door.) 

Enter Mrs. Wiggins, in a cloak, and with her green spectacles ; 
closes the door after her. 
Mrs. "Wiggins. — Is this Mr. John Eaynor's house? 
John. — Yes ma'am ! 



152 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

Mrs. Wiggins. —Well, you'll see the coachman waiting out- 
side ! Just pay him his charges, quick, and get some one to bring 
in my trunks. 

John (aside). — Fire and furies ! (aloud). But madam, I — 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Don't Madam me ! my name is Mrs. 
Wiggins ; and it isn't likely I'd come all the way from Snipetown 
at this dreadful season of the year, only to be sent back again ! 
You advertised for a housekeeper, and I'm a housekeeper ; and 
you said, you wanted one for about six months, so I've come 
calculating to stay six months ; and if you ain't suited at the end 
of that time, you can get somebody else ! So just pay the man, 
for he's in a hurry, and let me know which room's mine, and I'll 
get to work right away. 

John. — Well I declare! here's petticoat government with a 
vengeance. I suppose there's no way left for me but to submit. 

\_Exit Uncle John. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — I rather guess it is petticoat government, my 
good sir, and of a most uncompromising kind I can tell you, so 
you'll find out by the time I've been in the house a few weeks ! 
I must settle the question of wages when he comes back, for I 
don't mean to give my time and talents for nothing ! 

Enter Uncle John. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well, did you pay the coachman? 

John. — Yes, I did ; and a confoundedly exorbitant price, too ! 
That wasn't included in the advertisement that I am aware of! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Wasn't, hey? who ever heard of a lady pay- 
ing her own carriage hire? I hope you ain't a miser, Mr. 
Raynor ? 

John. — Humph! precious little chance of my being a miser, 
with such a lot of extravagant characters as I manage to draw 
around me ! there's far more prospect of my dying in the poor 
house, at the rate matters are going on now. 

Mrs. Wiggins.— Because I knew a miser once, and he was so 
stingy that he wouldn't hire a servant, and his house was broken 
into one night and — 

John. — If you please, Mrs. Wiggins, I'll defer hearing the rest 
of that story until another time, as it's getting late and nearly 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 153 

time for supper. You'll find your room on the first landing, the 
third door on the left. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Look-a-here, Mr. Kaynor ! don't you be in 
quite such a hurry ; there's one or two matters have got to be 
settled yet. What time do you eat breakfast in the morning ? 

John. — Oh any time between seven and nine will suit me — as 
well as I can be suited — confound it. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well it won't suit me, at all ! I'm not used 
to any such lazy habits ! I'm up every day of my life at live 
o'clock, and always as hungry as a bear in the morning ! So 
breakfast will be ready at six o'clock, and if you ain't down to 
eat it, you'll have to wait until dinner time. 

John. — Thunderation ! that's what you call being master in 
one's own house, eh ? I always take my second nap after six 
o'clock. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well! those are my rules, and I can't alter 
them to suit individual cases; and I've always given perfect 
satisfaction. So I' 11 ring the bell at — 

John. — Oh ring the bell in the middle of the night, if you see 
fit to, by all means ! I'll have to get up, dead or alive, I suppose ! 
This is one of the blessings of having a stranger around; I 
needn't expect a particle of consideration ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Where I came from, Mr. Eaynor, they used 
to tell me it was mighty onpolite to take a body up that way ! 
Howsumever, bachelors h'aint got no idea of how to behave 
themselves ! And now one thing more, how much wages do you 
calculate to pay me ! 

John.— Oh for goodness sake ! charge anything you like and 
I'll foot the bill ! only do leave me a little peace and go and see 
about my supper ! (aside). When I let that niece of mine slip 
through my fingers again, I guess I'll know it. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well, I'll leave you to get into a better 
temper, and go and see to things ; but just remember that I 
want my wages in advance. 

John. — Anyway you please, so that I'm left undisturbed. 

[Exit Mrs. Wiggins. 
So that's to be Mabel's substitute for the next six months ! a 
charming substitute upon my word ! However, perhaps her cap- 



154 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

ability as a housekeeper will offset her objectionable qualities ; 
and I can stuff cotton into my ears to keep out the noise of her 
tongue ! [Exit Uncle John. 



SCENE IY. — Breakfast-room. Uncle John pacing up and down. 

John. — This is more than mortal flesh and blood can stand! 
Not a decent meal have I sat down to since that headstrong 
niece of mine took herself out of the house three weeks ago ! 
Three weeks ! the only wonder is how I have survived it all ! 
and the house is so confoundedly lonely without her too, that 
I've half a mind to hang myself ! What has been my bill of fare 
every — well I don't want to swear, so I'll say, Messed — morning 
since that— house destroyer she had best be called — came under 
my roof? Nothing but cold muffins, underdone eggs and miser- 
able muddy coffee ; and when I venture to utter a word of 
remonstrance, or suggest that things might be better, she sets up 
such a din about my ears, that I'm only too glad to swallow my 
breakfast as it is, and get out of the room away from the noise. 
Petticoat government under my pretty, tasteful Mabel's regime, 
was a very pleasant experience, but when transferred to the 
gorgon, who sits opposite me at the table, with her horrid false 
teeth and curls, and glares at me through those abominable 
green spectacles of hers, that I've more than once been tempted ■ 
to send flying into the middle of next week — its only another 
name for Purgatory. Here she comes, bless her ! Speak of— 

Enter Mrs. Wiggins. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Good morning sir! waiting for your breakfast? 

John. — Yes ! (aside). Breakfast, indeed ! haven't enjoyed 
such a luxury since Mabel went away ! All the money I've paid 
this creature might just as well have been pitched into the street. 
I declare I'll write to Mabel this afternoon and beg her to come 
home. Let's see what the wilful minx says ! — (Putts letter from 
his pocket) 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Your breakfast is ready, Mr. Kaynor! you'd 
better come before the coffee gets cold ! 

John. — Coffee forsooth ! I wonder whether if it could speak it 
would answer to that name ! I would'nt give much for its 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 155 

veracity if it did! (seats himself at table) — humph! watery 
potatoes, and toast burnt to a cinder, as usual! 

Mrs. Wiggins.— Mr. Kaynor, I have received diplomas frorn 
three first class hotels, endorsing my skill, and I've got 'em this 
blessed minute in my trunk up stairs; and I won't hear any 
aspersions upon my working ! I'd have you to understand, sir — 

John. — I beg that the subject may be waived to another 
occasion, madam! I wish to read this letter from my niece ! 

Mrs, Wiggins. — Some more of your horrid bachelor manners ! 
Heading at the table, especially when there's others present was 
considered, where I came from, very— 

John (aside). — I wish to goodness you'd staid where you came 
from!— (aloud) — Madam, you'll oblige me by postponing this 
subject indefinitely. I wish to see what my niece says, {reads 
partly aloud) "Dear uncle; Aunt Mary sends her love to you. 
I'm having a splendid time, and think I shall staysail winter" — 
(throwing the letter down, speaks). Confound her ! let her stay 
then ! she'll get back in time fur my funeral, perhaps ! I know 
one thing ! every cent I have shall go to George Wilson ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Gracious fathers ! what an awful boy you 
must ha' been ! 

John (angrily). — What do you mean by that, madam ? 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Why, you've got such a shocking temper! Just 
look at the way you slammed that letter down on the floor ; and 
you've spilled your coffee all over my clean table cloth ! Where 
1 came from — 

John.— Where you came from, I dare say, they were all saints; 
but I don't make any pretentions of that sort! Good gracious 
sakes alive. Mrs. Wiggins! ain't I enough of a master in my own 
house, that's bought and paid for and furnished and provided for 
with my own money, to be allowed the privilege of expressing 
myself when matters don't suit me! 

Mrs. Wiggins.— Dear me ! how red you do get in the face ! 
that's always a sure sign of a shocking disposition! aud you might 
as well speak Choctaw when you get going so fast, for all that a 
body can understand ! But as for being left to growl at every- 
thing, as you've been a doin' for the last two weeks, it depends 
upon the kind of a person you have to see after things. If she's 



156 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

one of these soft timid sort, I suppose she'd let yon grumble all 
you please — but when you've got a person of character like me, 
to deal with you'll find — 

John. — I'll tell you what yoiill find, madam ! that I'll get rid 
of you aud your intolerable lectures as soon as possible. Fire and 
furies ! I hav'nt dared to say my soul was my own, or drawn a 
breath in peace since you've been in the house! But I'll have a 
change of programme in short metre. I've endured this kind of 
thing long enough, the house is going to wreck and ruin, and 
Mabel shall come home and have her own way. Yes, I'll have 
the girl back if I have to see her married to a dozen Harry Ashfords! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — A dozen! sakes alive! why that would be 
bigamy would'nt it? I always heern tell so, anyhow! 

John. — Confound my stupid way of speaking aloud, just when 
I don't want to. I'll write to Mabel anyhow and tell her if she'll 
only come back she shall do as she pleases, and that if she don't, 
I'll commit suicide! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — This here Mabel is your niece, is'nt she? 

John. — Yes! I suppose I've let that out with the rest of the 
family secrets! 

Mrs. Wiggins.— "What made her leave ye? 

John. — Because I would'nt let her marry a confounded scamp 
of a fellow I— (aside) — there ! 1 didnt mean to say that, plague 
on my unfortunate tongue ! I could bite it off! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — And yet you're willing now to let her marry 
a dozen of 'em! 'Pears to me you're mighty consistent ! 

John. — Because I've had such a miserable experience, that I'm 
bound to have the girl back at any price ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — And why would'nt you let her marry the young 
feller in the first place. 

John. — Because I wanted her to marry my nephew, and she 
would'nt look at him ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — You acknowledge that she was such a treasure, 
aud that you've been miserable without her, and yet you were 
not willing to give her the privilege of choosing her own husband. 
I want to know if you call that fair ! 

John. — Well it don't exactly look square, that's a fact. But I 
don't see why she could'nt have taken to George and pleased me! 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT 157 

Mrs. "Wiggins. — I don't see why yon can't be satisfied with my 
housekeeping! It snits me well enough, and I've always been 
considered a first-rate hand at cooking. 

John. — Perhaps your capabilities might suit some individuals — 
Fegee Islanders for instance ; but every one to his taste, you know. 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well! I want to hear some more about this 
thing? Was there any reason why your niece shouldn't have 
married the young fellow that she had a liking for? 

John. — Yes, plenty of reasons — 

Mrs. Wiggins (interrupting). — What were they? was he poor? 

John. — No the scamp had money enough ; but — 

Mrs. Wiggins.— Did he gamble? 

John. — No ; but then — 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Or get drunk — 

John.— No; however — 

Mrs. Wiggins.— Or chew tobacco? 

John. — No ; but ? 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Or steal any? — 

John. — No ! no ! confound you, woman, do let one have a chance 
to get a word in edgewise ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Well I don't see what you had agin him, then ! 
I've gone over pretty nearly all the sins in the calendar that I 
know of ! 

John. — If you'll only give that irrepressible tongue of yours a 
moment's rest, I can tell you. I wanted her to marry somebody 
else, that's the reason; isn't that enough ? 

Mrs. Wiggins.— I should think it was — more than enough ! 
You're a pretty specimen of generosity aren't you? expecting the 
poor girl to work and slave herself for you, and then make her 
marry somebody she don't care a rush for, as a proof of your re- 
gard for her sendees. I just think you've treated that niece of 
yours shamefully, Mr. John Raynor ! 

John. — Well I begin to think so myself, by gracious. I was 
a selfish brute ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — I don't wonder she left ye ; I'd a done it, too! 

John, (aside). — I only wish you'd do it now ! I shall be worn 
to skin and bone if this goes on much longer ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. —Well its one good sign that you're willing to 



158 PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 

own up that you was wrong. Now what would you give to have 
your niece back again ? She must have been mighty good look- 
ing if that's a picture of her over the mantlepiece. 

John. — She was as pretty as a picture, and the sunshine of the 
house ! and I'd give anything to have her back again ! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Would you let her choose her own husband, 
and give her a nice portion, and promise not to be so cross or un- 
reasonable again ¥ 

John. — Yes, yes, a thousand times yes ! 

Mrs. Wiggins, {springing up and embracing him). — Oh! you 
dear old darling ! 

John {drawing back aghast). — Why — why— what does this 
mean ? This certainly is a most remarkable proceeding ! Explain 
yourself, madame, explain yourself! 

Mrs. Wiggins. — Certainly {diverting herself of her disguise), 
there uncle John ! is that anything of a improvement? 

John {catching her in his arms). — Oh you good for nothing 
little witch ! What shall I ever do with you, for playing such a 
naughty trick on me ? 

Harry {entering). — Bestow her on me, dear uncle John ! 
Come, you will not refuse us your blessing ! {They kneel before 
him.) 

John. — Nor will I, lest my Mabel should be transformed again 
and vanish permanently. Bless you, my children ; you shall 
have her at the earliest opportunity, Harry ; only let her go and 
take off that odious dress, and array herself in one of her own 
fairy like fabrics. [Exit Mabel. 

Harry. — I've been living in Purgatory for the last three weeks ! 
I wouldn't go through it again for all I'm worth ! 

Enter Mabel. 

Now come here you little witch, and give a strict account of 
yourself, while I make up my mind as to whether I can forgive 
you or not ! 

Mabel {laughing). — I charge you to render a favorable decision, 
uncle John, under penalty of my resolving hopelessly into Mrs. 
Wiggins. And now I will unravel the mystery. I did indeed go to 
aunt Mary's, made known to her my plan, borrowed my disguise 



PETTICOAT GOVERNMENT. 159 

and came here. And the rest, you can relate as well as I, ha ! 
ha ! ha ! although I'm sorry you were so unappreciative of my 
efforts to please your palate ! 

Jons. — Your efforts, indeed, you sly minx! I could shake you 
for a week ; when I think of all the impertinence I had to take 
from you ! 

Harry. — She was only giving you a sample of the delights of 
petticoat government, uncle John. 

John. — Delights that I don't care to experience again. But I 
don't see how you managed about the letters. 

Mabel. — VThy I sent them to aunt Mary, and she sent them to 
you ! The longest way round is the shortest way there, you know! 

John. — To all of which tricks I am indebted to your boarding- 
school days, I suppose. I dare say you were shaking in your 
shoes the whole time for fear of being discovered. But the fact 
was I was so busy thinking about you, and was so confoundedly 
sorry that I had let you go, that I never dreamed of any such 
caper, and hardly looked at you in fact, or I might have found 
you out. But you've proved too much for me — as is always the 
case with women — and I'll only stipulate that you and Harry will 
make this your home after you are married. 

Harry (laughing). — So you're ready to acknowledge the su- 
premacy of petticoat government, uncle John, over us masculines, 
and all our projects and authority. 

John. — Oh mercy, yes! one woman is equal to half a dozen 
men in the way of stratagem. But since it has all ended so hap- 
pily I don't know that I have cause for complaint. 

Mabel. — And you shall have your slippers for a Christmas 
present after all, uncle John, as a re ward for your good behavior. 

Harry. — And this day three months, I invite all who have an 
interest in our fortunes, to witness a ceremony in which another 
of the ' lords of creation ' will bow his neck to the pleasant yoke 
of Petticoat G-overnment ! 

CURTAIN. 



160 



NOW OR NEYER; 

OR, 

"DELAYS AKE DANGEROUS. " 

By Ellen Pickering. 
(See note to Dialogue entitled " THE UNCLE," page 28). 



CHARACTERS. 



Mr. Johnson. Rattle. 

Miss Johnson. Doleful. 



Miss Johnson. — What, brother, not gone yet ? < I thonght yon 
were to meet the commissioners at twelve. 

Johnson. — "Well, it has not strack yet. 
" Miss Johnson. — But it will in a minute, and yon are not 
dressed yet. 

Johnson (yawning). — Plenty of time. People never meet as 
soon as they say. 

Miss Johnson. — There is no time to be lost; there is the clock 
striking now, and it is a good half-hour's walk to the board. 

Johnson (deliberately folding the newspaper and stretching 
out his legs). — I can get a cab. 

Miss Johnson. — There were none on the stand as I passed just 
now. 

Johnson.— There will be presently. 

Miss Johnson. — I doubt it ; there is a picnic in the woods, and 
there is scarcely a cab in the town. 

Johnson. — Then I must wait till they come back. 

Miss Johnson. — There is not time to wait : the commissioners 
were to meet precisely at twelve. 

Johnson. — Precisely! people always say precisely, but they 
never meet for an hour after. 



NOW OR NEVER. 161 

Miss Johnson. — I saw the commissioners going toward the 
board as I came home. 

Johnson. — Only some of them, I daresay; there is plenty of 
time. 

Miss Johnson. — There is no such thing, brother. How can 
you be such a dawdle ? The commissioners are sitting now, you 
will lose all your valuable rights, if you do not appear to support 
them. 

Johnson. — ]No, no, I sha'n't ; I daresay they will wait for me. 

Miss Johnson. — Wait for you! That is just what you always say. 
As if public commissioners can wait for every one. You are as 
bad as a child, expecting a bird to wait to have salt put on its tail. 
Do pray put on your coat, and set off directly. 

Johnson. — Do not be in such a hurry, Jane ; you never leave 
me a moment's quiet: hurry here — hurry there — hurry [every where. 

Miss Johnson. — I never knew you hurry anywhere. 

Johnson. — "Well, why should I? Hurry did not win the race 
— the tortoise beat the hare. 

Miss Johnson. — Because the hare waited. 

Johnson. — Well, well; the people wait for me. 

Miss Johnson. — Did the train wait for you when you were 
summoned to your dying uncle ? Did that same uncle wait your 
arrival before he made his will ? Did not he refuse to wait any 
longer, and thinking your absence a want of respect, leave all he 
had to my cousin ? 

Johnson.— I don't see why they should be so very particular 
on the railroads. A few minutes could not matter: with their 
speed they could soon dash on and make it up again. 

Miss Johnson.— And dash into the train before them. They 
will never make you a railway director, I trust. 

Johnson. — If all the trains waited a few minutes it would be 
just the same. I doubt if railroads do much good. 

Miss Johnson. — They may teach people to be punctual, which 
will be a great good. But you have not put on your coat, now. 

Johnson. — I will in a minute, Jane ; don't be so impatient. I 
am only just waiting to finish this article. 

Miss Johnson. — Just waiting ! Those two words have been 
your bane through life : you waited till Miss Banbury, young, rich 



162 NOW OB NEVER. 

and pretty, married your rival. You waited till the situation 
that had been offered you was given to another. You waited to 
insure ypur home till it was burnt down. To descend to minor 
things, you never make up your mind to buy a horse till some 
one else has purchased it. You never sit down to dinner till the 
fish is cold and the soup taken away. 

■' There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
Which, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune." 

But you never attempt to take the tide till it has ebbed ; and 
then you are left floundering in the mud, instead of being borne 
into port on the top of the wave. Will you never learn that noth- 
ing in this world waits but Peter Johnson ? jSow, do put down 
the paper, brother. 

Johnson. — Well, well, there, I am putting it down, only let 
me lay it smooth. 

Miss Johnson. — There, go and put your coat on. 

Johnson. — Wait a moment, I hear some one coming ; perhaps 
it is to say that the commissioners won't meet to-day, but wait 
till to-morrow. 

Miss Johnson. — Much more likely to say that they won't wait 
any longer for you. As I said before, nothing and no one waits 
now but Peter Johnson ; and why should he be an exception to 
the general rule ? 

Enter Rattle. 

Rattle. — I am glad you are here, for my uncle has sent me on 
business of great importance, and we were afraid you might be 

>ne to the board of commissioners. 

Johnson {turning in triumph to his sister). — There ! you see 
what good comes of waiting. 

Miss Johnson. — Time will show. 

Rattle. — Mr. Winslow has sent my uncle directions to sell 
Barton's farm immediately, and Dobson has just offered ten thous- 
and dollars for it, and is to call for an answer in ten minutes. He 
declares he will give no more, so if you will advance upon this it 
shall be yours, only you must decide directly. Yes or no. 

Johnson.— Stop, don't be in such a hurry ; just wait whilst I 
think a little. 



NOW OB NEVER. 163 

Rattle. — I cannot wait a minnte, my dear sir : there are two 
sets of marriage settlements to be finished to-night. Lovers won't 
wait — no one waits, except waiters at an inn, and they don't wait 
for nothing. 

Johnson. — Bless me, every one goes at railroad speed, and won't 
wait a minute. Barton's farm ? Ay, that is the farm just before 
my windows, that I have been waiting for so long. A bad 
neighbor might make it very unpleasant. 

Rattle (who has been fidgeting about first on one foot and 
then on the other). — Exactly so; and Dobson intends to erect a 
manufactory there with gas works, etc., which will spoil your 
place, and lessen its value full one-half. You should not hesitate 
a moment, sir. Yes or no ? 

Johnson. — ^ait a moment. 

Rattle. — I can't wait an instant ; time goes on, whilst we are 
stopping. Yes or no ? 

Johnson. — Yes — no — yes. I must wait a minute to think. Tell 
your uncle I will call upon him, and let him know my decision. 

Rattle. — Yery well, sir ; only remember Dobson will be back 
in five minutes now, and must have an answer. 

Johnson. — Tell your uncle to wait till I come. 

Rattle (as he is hurrying of ). — Can't wait, sir; Time and 
Timson never wait. (Aside.) Old fogrum ! who is to wait for 
him, I wonder. The stand-still party is in the minority now. Go- 
a-head is the word ; and spades are trumps. [Exit Rattle. 

Johnson. — Gone ! won't wait a minute. This is the helter- 
skelter age. If my respected grandfather could step out of his 
grave, I wonder what he would say to it. 

Miss Johnson. — Leave your respected grandfather quiet in his 
tomb, and go to Timson directly, and say you will give ten thous. 
and and one hundred dollars for Barton's farm, and then hurry 
on to the commissioners and enforce your rights. 

Johnson. —Plenty of time. Timson's is only three doors off. 
No need of hurry. 

Miss Johnson. — Yes, there is. The five minutes are nearly 
up already, and you are still in your dressing-gown and 
slippers. 

Johnson.— Oh ! I can put on my coat in a minute, 



164 NOW OB NEVER. 

Miss Johnson. — Then pray do it at once, or Dobson will be 
there before you. 

Johnson. —Oh ! Timson will wait for me. 

Miss Johnson. — His nephew said he could not ; Dobson must 
have an answer. 

Johnson. — "Well, I will only just wait to make out the value of 
the farm. (Takes up a pen, ivliich his sister snatches away. ) 

Miss Johnson. — There is no time for that now : anything rather 
than have a manufactory and gasometer just before your face. 

Johnson. — Ah! so it is. Then I will go directly; only just 
let me get my snuff-box. 

Miss Johnson. — Never mind your snuff-box. Here is your 
coat. (His sister snatches his coat from a chair and assists him 
to put it on.) 

Johnson. — "Wait a minute. I think I had better put on the 
other coat. 

Miss Johnson.— No, no, any coat will do ; the five minutes 
are up now ; you will certainly be too late. 

Johnson. — That is the wrong arm-hole. 4 * The more haste the 
worse speed." (Tfie coat is put on after some difficulty.) But 
where are my shoes ? 

Miss Johnson. — Never mind your shoes. Go in your slippers 
to Timson's, and I will send your shoes after you, and bid John 
run for a cab. There now, go. (Pushes him towards the door.) 

Johnson. — Stop a minute, here is some one coming. Timson 
will certainly wait for me. 

Enter Doleful. 

Doleful. — I am truly grieved to be the bearer of mournful in- 
telligence ; it always seems to be my unhappy fate to afflict my 
friends. 

Miss Johnson. — Some other time, Mr. Doleful, my brother is 
in haste just now. 

Johnson.— Oh ! I will just wait and hear. TVhat is it, Doleful ? 

Doleful. — "Why, not being at the Board to explain and enforce 
your claims, and Sneerwell speaking^strongly against them, they 
are disallowed ; and you lose all your rights. 

Johnson.— Lose all my rights ! A full live thousand dollars a 






NOW OR NEVER. 165 

year gone. This is downright cheating. Why did not the com- 
missioners await my arrival ? 

DoLEFrx. — Your name chanced to be called first — it was proved 
that the notice had been served npon yon. and so the commission- 
ers decided at once ; they boast of being like Time, and never 
"waiting for any one. 

Johnson. — There now, just as I was on my way to the com- 
missioners. I must consider what is to be done : every one is in 
such a hurry. 

Miss Johnson. — Then do you be in a hurry too, and run off to 
Timson. 

Johnson. — TTell, I suppose I had better ; but here comes Eattle 
out of breath, as usual. How people do hurry themselves. 

Enter Rattle. 

Rattle. — My uncle wants to know whether you wish to buy 
any railway shares ? 

Johnson. — Xo ; I hate railways — they never wait for any one. 
But I am just going to your uncle to say I will buy Barton's farm. 

Rattle. — Very sorry, sir ; but you are too late. Dobson has 
paid the deposit money. 

Johnson {in dismay). — Too late ! I told you to wait till I came. 

Rattle. — I told you we could not wait, sir. However, my 
uncle did wait three minutes ; but you did not come, and Dobson 
grew so impatient, that he could not wait any longer. Of course, 
he thought you did not care about it. 

Johnson. — But I did care about it a great deal. Lose five 
thousand a year, and have a manufactory and a gasometer run 
up just under my nose, and all at once ! A pretty day's work ! 
But that has been ever the way from my birth. Some one always 
steps in just before me, people are in such a hurry. 

Miss Johnston. — Rather say you are so slow, and always a 
day too late for the fair. You are simply exasperating. Oh ! if 
you would only keep the good old proverb in mind for the future! 

[Exeunt 
CURTAIN. 



166 



A CLOSE SH1YE. 

By Bob. O'Link. 



CHAR A CTERS. 

John Marsh, a bachelor, 
Tony, his valet. 



Costumes. — Marsh, Pajama suit, cotton night cap, slippers. 
Tony, Trousers, short white jacket, slippers. 



SCENE. — A bachelor's bed-room. Door, right In centre, back, 
a bed screened by curtains parting in the middle. Left, a toilet- 
table. Right, a small table, chair, shaving materials, etc. 

As the Curtain rises, a clock strikes ten. 

Marsh {in bed, with a cotton night-cap on, thrusts his head 
out between the curtains). — I wonder what hour the clock struck 
just now. "Where's that rascal ? (Calls.) Tony ! Tony ! ! 

Tony (outside).— Aye, aye, sir ! 

Marsh (calls). — "What time is it? 

Tony (outside). — Don't know ! 

Marsh {calls).— Go and see, you numbskull! 

Tony (outside, y axons). — I'm in bed. 

Marsh (calls). — Get up ! Quick, now ! 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir! 

Marsh (speaks). — That's the laziest fellow I ever saw. I make 
him sleep in the next room so as to be within call. Without 
exception he is about the sleepiest fellow I ever met, aud as 
stupid as a donkey, but with all his clumsiness he is faithful and 
puts up with all my impatience and, sometimes, ill temper. 
(Pause.) What can he be about f (Calls.) Tony ! ! 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir! 

Marsh (calls).— Do you want me to come and shake you up t 
What time is it? 



A CLOSE SHAVE. 167 

Tony (outside). — Ten o'clock. 

Marsh (speaks). — Ten ! Great Caesar! I am to be married 
at eleven, and my best man is to be here at half past ten. (Calls.) 
Tony ! 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir! 

Marsh (calls angrily). — ^Vhy didn't you call me an hour ago ? 

Tony (outside). — Had no orders ! 

Marsh {calls). — Didn't you know I was to be married this 
morning ? 

Tony (outside). — Never told me so ! 

Marsh (calls). — Never told you ! Didn't you know it? 

Tony (outside). — Never know nothing but what I'm told. 

Marsh (calls). — Well, you confounded fool, I tell you now! 
Do you hear me ? 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir! 

Marsh (calls imjyatiently). — Quick, now ! Bring in my clothes 
and shoes. Hurry, — come and help me dress. (Gets out of bed.) 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir. 

Marsh (speaks excitedly). — Oh, if I only had time, I'd trounce 
you, my fine fellow. Ah ! I must shave, I'd better begin at once 
— no hot water — no matter— (la thers his face). The idea of sleep- 
ing so late on one's wedding day ! I wonder what Anna Maria 
wonld say ? Anna Maria (musingly), — nice girl, tall, rather dark, 
but then — richest heiress in Podunk — so her father says. Met 
her at Rockaway — wild waves — beach by moonlight — spoons for 
two — the old story. — Oh!— soap in my eye! How it smarts! 
(calls.) Tony ! 

Tony (outside). — Aye, aye, sir ! 

Marsh (calls). — Aye, aye ! Come here, you scamp, and wipe 
my eye ! 

Tony (outside). — Can't do it. I'm brushing your coat. 

Marsh (speaks, excitedly). — Oh, if I only had time! I'd brush 
you! 

Enter Tony. 

Tony. — Here I am ! 

Marsh. — "WTiat's the matter now? 

Tone. — I've come to wipe your eye. 



168 A CLOSE SHAVE. 

Marsh {excited). — Oh ! If I only had time! Turn round, you 
villain! 

Tony. — Aye, aye, sir. (Turns his lack to Marsh, tcho gives 
him a kick. ) Ah ! (laughs) Ain't he quaint ! 

Marsh. — Off with you ! fetch my clothes. [Exit Tony. 

Tes, she's a daisy. Her father promised me a splendid four- 
story house in Podunk as a wedding present. Luckily, I have a 
friend there, a lawyer, to whom I wrote, asking him to find out 
and tell me all about her, — and the house, of course. — I've had 
no answer yet, but I suppose it's all right. The old man was a 
really nice, good-natured fellow. He was so particular in asking 
me all about myself, my means and prospects. He said that 
Anna Maria was so sensitive, so amiable, and had received many 
offers, but had never appeared to be favorably impressed by any 
of her suitors until now. There was almost a tear in his eye when 
he thought of having to part with her, but her happiness was his 
whole object in life. I assured him that I would do all in my 
power to make her life a happy one. A.nd yet, I wish I had news 
from Podunk. 

Enter Tony. 

Tony.— Here I am. 

Marsh. — "What have you got now? 

Tony, — Tour hat and cane— 

Marsh. — Blockhead ! Do you suppose I need to be married 
with a cane ? Oh ! If I only had time ! Turn round ! 

Tony. — Aye, aye, sir ! (Turns round. 

Marsh (kicks him). — There ! Xow fetch my clothes. 

Tony (aside). — Ah ! (laughs) Ain't he quaint ! (starts toward 
door, returns). Oh, I forgot — here's a letter for you. 

Marsh (impatient). — Put it on the table, and fetch my razor 
— hurry, now. 

Tony. — Which razor? The white handle, or the black handle — 
or, perhaps — 

Marsh (enraged). — Any razor, you dolt ! Off with you. 

Exit Tony; re-enters in a hurry. 

Tony.— Here's your razor. 

Marsh (commencing to shave). — Say, Tony, are you going to 
keep that jacket on you all day ? 



A CLOSE SHAVE 169 

Tony. — No — Sir ! Fm going to take it off— soon going to bed 
again — 

Marsh (starts; cuts his face). — Back to bed? Oh! I've cnt 
myself ! 

Tony. — That's nothing, let it bleed. 

Marsh. — Be off with you, put on your new livery. You'll have 
to ride on the box with the driver. It will look well, you know. 

Tony. — But, sir — 

Marsh. — I'll give you ten minutes to change your clothes. 
Now — fly, or I'll massacre you. [Exit Tony. 

It's dreadful to have to hurry so ; eonfound it ! There's another 
gash ! How it bleeds ! Hang the razor (dashes it on the floor). 
Now I'll have to wait till these gashes stop bleeding (sits down). 
Enter Tony. 

Tony. — Here's your clothes — 

Marsh. — Put them on that chair, and — 

Tony. — You seem in a desperate hurry to get married. 

Marsh.— Hurry, indeed ! and people waiting for me. 

Tony. — I got married once. 

Marsh.— You? Well, I declare ! 

Tony. — Yes. But it was a failure — an awful fizzle (sits down). 
Oh, a distressing story. You see, I married a girl from 'way 
down Alabama. Sweet as a ripe orange, and about the same 
complexion. Oh, she was a bloomer ! 

Marsh. — Orange — and a bloomer — a complete wedding wreath, 
ready made. Did she fade ? What separated you ? 

Tony. — Only a little difference of taste and opinion. 

Marsh. — That seems rather a slender excuse for such an im- 
portant step as separation between man and wife. 

Tony. — Slender ! not so slender as you think. Do you chew 
tobacco? 

Marsh. — I? Well, occasionally. 

Tony. — Occasionally ? This is about the first time I've seen 
you without it in your mouth. Well, now — suppose your future 
bride had an abhorrence of tobacco, and asked you to give up the 
nasty habit. 

Marsh. — I think I would, without hesitation. She certainly 
would think I had very little love for her if I didn't. 



170 A CLOSE SHAVE, 

Tony — That was about the trouble with us. 

Marsh. — What? Did you chew tobacco, and refused to quit it? 

Tony. — !N"ot much ! The shoe was on the other foot. 

Marsh. — You don't say ! "What ! she — chewed ? 

Tony. — She ate garlic, — was dreadfully fond of it. I can't 
bear the horrible stuff. The third day after our wedding, I said, 
Seraphina Maria — shut down on the garlic. Choose for yourself, 
— Anthony and bliss, or Garlic and divorce. — She chose the 
garlic, and that ended it. Say ! does the future Mrs. Marsh like 
garlic ? 

Marsh. — You impudent beggar ! Get out of this ! Be off and 
dress yourself. Oh ! If I only had time ! Here ! Turn around. 

Tony. — Aye, aye, sir {turns his back to Marsh iclio kicks him). 
Holy smoke ! {aside) Ain't he quaint ! [Exit Tony. 

Marsh. — Gracious! These gashes will never stop bleeding. 
Oh ! the letter ! I forgot all about it. {Takes letter, opens and 
reads.) " My dear Marsh v — {speaks) from the Podunk lawyer; 
just in time; let's see what he says. {Beads.) "I hasten to repfy 
to your inquiries about the young lady, and the house you mention." 
{Speaks.) I had no idea that I was a nervous man, but at this 
crisis, this turning-point in my life, I actually tremble at the pe- 
rusal of words that may seal my fate irrevocably. Be still, my 
heart ! ]S~ow for the report from Podunk. My sight grows dim, 
but courage! {Reads.) "The house is not a four-story one by any 
means ; who ever said so added, not only one, but three stories to its 
real dimensions. It boasts of just one, in fact, a shanty, and in 
the last stages ot delapidation." {Speaks.) Jerusalem ! {reads.) 
"The young lady in question is by no means deficient in stories of 
another and rather unsavory kind. She was very popular, — in fact, 
quite a general pet, — with the officers of the 99th cavalry when that 
regiment was stationed here" — {speaks excitedly). Too many stories 
to the woman, and too few to the house ! A pretty story, alto- 
gether, upon my word. The house, a shanty, a delapidated 
shanty. The house which had raised up visions of future ease 
and comfort, and rent-free wedded bliss, a myth ! What a liar 
the old man must be ! There must be some mistake, and yet, my 
friend is very explicit. Yes, I must believe it. And Anna Maria, 
so sweet — so gentle — can it be ? Oh ! What a fool I must have 



A CLOSE SHAVE. 171 

lucky escape, (calls) Tony!! 

Enter Tony. 

Tony (^ •*T fl 2Ll «« But for thee, I should have 
"^^-i^^i^SiLl'. As thou hast cut me, so cut 

been sacrificed, ^trayeo. i i Hand me that night-cap ! 

I the mendacious Seraphma. (2o1o>y.j nau 

„ tto ! TTn i fioine to eet married m a mgnt-eap. 

Tost—Hb ! Ha! <*oing to >r bed in . 

AIaksh.— Hush up, you blocUieao. im go^s 
Be off ! Never mind your livery and— 

I 01 " - 1 Anf ^fy^HaUe^ochs or rings, let them 
T D urn aromil (ToTi turns, M.ksh «* M.> There. Sow he 
"^.-Thunder! That was a corker ! («**)• Ohl Ag» 

should now ^ »"^S.fS'^ and disappointment ! 
to-morrow-what an awakening J ^ jf ^ ^ 

Thank goodness I nave oeeu .a-veu things:— 

anj - young men like mysel present," = o f *«JtaJ ^ 
Eotekaway Beach, moonlight and stray suras t / 
ftrusfe /.efld o»* 6eftw« the cuvtams.) But, by the uoiy p 



that was A Close Shave. 

CUB IAIN. 



172 



nvn& PICTURES AND tableaux. 

By Fannie M. Steele. 

Living pictures, or tableaux, of the size of easel pictures, are 
to be shown as if hanging in an ordinary frame. 

These may be arranged with charming effect, and may be 
shown in a small public hall, or a large parlor with very simple 
appliances. Of course all the beauty depends upon the judicious 
use of color, and upon a sufficient but still a rather mysterioas 
lighting. 

THE PICTURE FRAME. 

In the first place, a gilt, or walnut and gilt, picture frame must 
be hung in a common doorway, or between two sliding doors 
closed to the size of the frame, while the space above and below is 
covered with material of some dark color. The whole wall, or the 
doors which represent the wall, should also be covered with the 
same dark color. The picture frame must be hung just so high 
that by standing on the floor the head of an adult will be in the 
centre of the frame. Now fasten a wire across the audience room 
three or four inches in front of your frame. This will hold the 
curtain, which should be suspended from it with rings. The cur- 
tain should be of thick material. (See " Inner Mat. ") 

THE SCREEN. 
Behind the picture frame you will need a firm, high screen made 
of two uprights of scantling, with a cross-piece on top, and 
another half way down to strengthen it, and feet to widen the base. 
This screen should be nine feet high, at least; so high, at all 
events, that, when seated in the front row of seats and looking 
through the frame, an observer will not be able to see the ceiling 
beyond. This screen is to hold the materials which form the 
background of the picture. When the figure is posed, the screen 
is to be pushed as close to figure and the picture frame as possible, 
to avoid the appearance of depth to the picture ; that is, to make 
the living figure appear as if it were a painting on a flat surface. 



I 



.LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 173 

THE INKER MAT. 

We will say that the opening of the frame is thirty inches by 
twenty-four. Thirty-six by thirty would be better. That may 
be too large for some of the figures you would like to represent. 
An inner "mat," as it is called, made of thick paper with light 
strips of wood across each end, will be useful. Two screw-eyes 
at the upper corners, corresponding with two screw-hooks in the 
frame proper, will allow the mats to be easily adjusted. These 
mats may be covered with gilt paper, the outer rim correspond- 
ing with the inner rim of the frame ; that is, thirty by twenty- 
four inches, or thirty-six by thirty, the inner opening being either 
an oval or a square with rounded corners. This arrangement 
changes the size and varies the shape of the pictures. 

As to the frame itself, if nothing better is at hand, one may be 
made of pine and covered with brown muslin and gilt paper, imi- 
tating a walnut and gilt picture frame. This will be sufficiently 
good, as the light is to fall only on the picture in the opening, 
and the audience-room would be dark. 

THE LIGHTING. 
Now for the lighting, which is the most important of all. It 
is best to have a magic lantern so placed in the back of the room 
that a square of light shall fall upon the opening in the pic- 
ture frame. An engine head-light will answer a good purpose if 
its light is bounded by a square opening, so that it throws a 
square light instead of a circular one. Also a fair arrangement 
would be two or three bull's-eye lanterns, placed in a close group 
on a firm, high stand near the frame, a little to the left in front, 
these so adjusted that their light will fall upon the opening in the 
picture frame. If the last means of lighting is used, it will be 
necessary to supplement it by the use of a bracket kerosene lamp, 
with reflector, so hung that its light will fall upon the person 
posed in the picture frame, the light falling through the space 
between the frame and the screen which is to form the back- 
ground. Of course this lamp and reflector must hang in the room 
beyond the picture frame. The light must not be too intense, as 
some shadows are needed upon the face for beauty. Lights from 
both sides at once throw cross shadows which are ruinous to 



174 LIVIXG PIC TUBES AND TABLEAUX. 

good looks or artistic effect. Light from above is good if it can be 

screened from the view of the audience, who are to sit in the dark. 

THE MANAGERS. 

First, a chief, who shall stand outside the frame in the audience- 
room, pose the models for the pictures, decide about the colors, 
ring the bell for music, as well as draw the curtain, enveloping 
himself in its folds as it slides back. 

Second. Head of the dressing-room, who shall, at the begin- 
ning of the evening, take care that the costumes are complete, 
each group of articles laid by itself, and ticketed according to the 
numbers of the programme, 1, 2, 3, etc. It should be his business 
to see, also, that the models for at least three pictures ahead 
should stand dressed and waiting : this to avoid the tiresome de- 
lays that occur between tableaux. 

Third. Manager of the background shades, who shall remove 
one background and supply the next expeditiously. A step-ladder 
or some firm boxes will be needed for this purpose. 

Fourth. A musician, who should have his notes placed in the 
order required on the piano, which should stand behind scenes. 

Each officer should have a programme, relating only to his own 
peculiar duties, fastened up at his post of duty. He should under- 
stand his business thoroughly, and never turn aside from it. Then 
there will be no need of the noise of questions, or confusion and 
delay. 

CONCLUDING DIRECTIONS. 

When the picture is posed satisfactorily by the chief, he is to 
ring a bell for silence in the audience ; a second bell for the music, 
which plays a strain or two till all are in the mood of its senti- 
ment, then another bell, and the chief will himself draw the 
curtain, while the music continues till the curtain is closed for 
the last time. Then each officer rushes to his own work, and the 
next picture is soon ready for exhibition. 

In the evening's entertainment here given, the names of the 
artists may be announced, if the original pictures are closely 
copied. For instance : " The Duchess of Devonshire, '' by Gains- 
borough, the portrait lately stolen ; or, ' 'Cherubs, " by Sir Joshua 
Reynolds; or, " Betty,'' by Nicholls; or, " Italian Girl," by 
Fortuny, etc. 



ZIYING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 



175 



PROGRAMME. 







PART 1. 




Opening Music 


A Piano Solo 




Tableaux. 




Music. 


1. 


Egyptian Girl. 




Strauss Waltz. 


2. 


Maude Muller. 




Last Smile, by "Wollerhaupt 


3. 


Blessed are thev 
mourn. 


THAT 


A melody, by Rubensteiii. 


4. 


Duchess of Devonshire. 


La Gazelle, by Hoffman. 


5. 


Eva and Topsy. 




Shoo-fly. 


6. 


What the daisy 

SEE. 


LIVED TO 


We met by chance. 


7. 


Cherubs. 




I want to be an Angel ; or, 
Les Deux Anges. 






PART II. 


1. 


A Nun. 




Ave Maria. 


2. 


Betty, the Milkmaid. 


Comin' through the rye. 


3. 


Oriental Girl. 




Traumerei. 


4. 


Marguerite. 




Airs from " Faust." 


5. 


Mignon. 




How can I leave thee. 


6. 


Spanish Lady. 




La Manola. 


7. 


Italian Girl. 




11 Bacio. 


8. 


The Rescue. 




The Erl King. 



DESCRIPTION". 
Costumes, Positions, and Backgrounds. 
1. Egyptian Girl. 
Represented by a brunette with sparkling black eyes, dressed 
in a cream-colored embroidered robe, bordered with deep maroon 
velvet, amis bare, several pairs of armlets and bangles upon them, 
black Spanish lace veil over hair which must be dressed very high 
to support it, earrings, coin necklace, coins on bands across fore- 
head. The jewels may be make of gilt paper. 

Pose. She stands with body in profile, facing left, left hand on 
hip, elbow straight forward. Right hand drawing veil half across 
her face. 



176 LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 

Background. A Persian rug or its imitation or a gay striped 
pink and green bit of drapery. Use the mat with rounded corners 
for this picture. 

It is only necessary to costume the figures to the waistline or a 
few inches below it. If it is impossible -to copy the descriptions 
given, try to adhere to the colors, varying if necessary, the detail. 

2. Maud Muller. 

She may be a sun-burned girl with expressive dark eyes. 

Dress. A pale calico waist of no particular color, sleeves rolled 
up. Faded Red silk handkerchief tied about the neck loosely, 
and a torn, wide, sun-burned, straw hat. 

Pose. She leans forward on a fence, chin buried in right palm, 
a longing look upon her face as if the Judge were disappearing in 
the distance. " It might have been " in her eyes. 

Background. Pale blue sky. Something made to simulate a 
fence and a rake handle leaning against it, at her left. u 

3. Blessed are they that mourn. 

Composed of two figures, the first an angel, who should be a 
golden-haired girl with wings attached to her shoulders, and her 
dress or drapery cream colored. Second a brunette, pale and 
thin, prominent nose. She should be draped in dove color, 
medium tint, over head and arms like sleeves with a fold of white 
cambric underneath, next the face. 

Pose. Angel with wings spread forward, hands expressing sup- 
port, eyes uplifted, expression prayerful. This figure stands be- 
hind. The mourner kneels in an attitude of grief, hands clasped. 
She should seem entirely unconsious of the presence of the angel 
although her head touches the angel's breast, or the head may fall 
forward on the clasped hands. 

Background. Maroon color. Mat, oval. A pedestal table will 
be needed to support the mourner's hands. The wings may be 
white muslin stretched upon a wire frame with a few touches of 
Indian ink wash to represent feathers. 

4. Dutchess of Devonshire. 
A bewitching, pretty girl in a blue silk waist (Marie Louise 
blue), with square neck and elbow sleeves, white illusion lace 



I 



LIVIXa PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 177 

drawn over shoulders in a point, fastened with pink flowers in 
front. An extremely wide brimmed hat of black velvet, turned 
up at one side with nodding plumes. A farmer's straw hat lined 
with velveteen will answer the purpose. Hair powdered and 
curled and fastened irregularly. 

Pose. She stands facing the left, head turned toward audience. 
Copy Gainsborough's portrait. Do not spoil this by a dark 
b]ue dress which will not light up. 

Background. Fawn color. Mat with rounded corners. 

5. Eva and Topsy. 

Eva in white, with long yellow curls. Topsy in burlap and 
wig, one coral earring in her ear. It would be far better, of 
course, if there was no need of wig and burnt cork. 

Pose. Eva holds up her finger while chiding Topsy for stealing 
Rosa's earring. Topsy, grinning, turns her ear to show Eva the 
wonderful ornament. 

Background. A light fawn color. No mat. 

6. What the daisy lived to see. 

First figure is a young man with a straw hat having a blue 
band, ordinary suit of clothes. Second, a young girl in blue 
dress, white Swiss muslin basque with black velvet sash, hat 
falling off, croquet mallet under her arm. 

Pose. The young man stands in profile, with croquet mallet 
over his shoulders, looking down delightfully at the young girl 
who puts a daisy in his button hole, while she looks shyly but 
lovingly up to his face. 

Background. Dark green. No mat. 

7. Cherubs. 
Background. A frame corresponding with the opening of the 
picture frame, covered with grey cambric on which are fastened 
clouds of white tarlatan. This hung in the frame like a mat. 
Before the clouds are fastened on make three openings in this 
background by cross cuts like the figure X, one of which should 
be above, and two underneath. Three little heads are to be 
pushed through these openings, and a pair of little wings fasten- 
ed at the side of each opening. 



178 LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 

The children must oe supported at the right height by boxes ; 
the upper head looks down and should be covered with light curls ; 
one of the lower cherubs looks up, the other straight forward. 
The wings may be made of white wiggin and feathers drawn upon 
them. They should be fastened to the background with pins. 

Or, in place of the last, the Sistine Cherubs may be represented 
by two pretty negro children in the attitude of the famous cherubs, 
and with little black wings fastened to their shoulders. 

Background. A flannel blanket with two green festoon-like 
curtains draped across the upper corners. 

This is very amusing, as the black eyes never fail to be very ex- 
pressive. Since the light is directly in the face of the models, 
and the audience sit in the dark, it is impossible for them to recog- 
nize friends in the company, therefore, it is easy ' or them to hold 
any expression, not being confused. 

PAET II. 
1. The Nctn. 

May be a mild faced blonde, with large, liquid eyes. First pin 
a band of white muslin across the forehead concealing all hair. 
Then take three yards of white cambric, using it wrong side out, 
and pin it round the face, pinning it under the chin ; let it hang 
smoothly to her hips, then bring it back over her wrists and pin 
for flowing sleeves. A black shawl is then laid over the head and 
in the same way over the wrists. This is a simple way to re- 
present a nun's dress. 

Pose. Hands are lifted in prayer with a crucifix clasped in them, 
and a rosary hanging from them. The head thrown back, eyes 
tearfully uplifted. 

Background. Fawn color. Mat, oval. 

2. Betty. 

A rosy, plump girl in light calico, with a thin white kerchief, 
tied above a pointed-necked dress, wide straw hat caught up at 
one side with poppies and daisies, short sleeves rolled up. 

Pose. Body to the left, milk pail under right arm filled with 
field flowers, while she seems to be singing on the way. 

Background. Pale blue as of sky. 



LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX. 179 

4. Oriental Beauty. 

A dark, sallow, black-eyed girl in a light brocade dress, red 
sash tied once straight about the waist, crossed behind and brought 
forward and tied again in front two or three inches below the 
waist. Eed and yellow crape turban. Let her have a large, gay 
fan of oriental design. She is to appear seated among cushions 
of gay colours. Two chairs, so placed that they do not prevent 
the screen being drawn up close to the figure, should have a 
narrow board on which the model is to be posed with her feet ly- 
ing toward the left, as if raising herself on her left elbow. 

Background. Olive brown. ]S"o mat. 

4. Marguerite. 

A. sweet-faced, light-haired girl, with two braids hanging down; 
in a white square-necked dress with chemisette tied with drawing 
string. The sleeves should be tight sleeves, with a pointed cuff 
of the same falling over the hand and puffs at the elbow. 

Pose. She faces the left and holds a daisy, as if she were say- 
ing, «* He loves me, he loves me not." 

Background. Dark green. Oval mat. 

5. Mignon. 

A young girl with fluffy, black hair combed back loosely, only 
confined by a narrow band of red. A dark blue waist, low round 
neck with chemisette, and light blue apron across her lap. 

Pose. Seated with elbows on knee, an expression of home-sick- 
ness, longing for Italy. 

Background. A very light cold grey. 

6. A Spanish Lady. 

A pretty, regular-featured girl, a brunette, with red satin waist, 
black veil draped over high comb, little water curls at the ear, a 
rose at one side of hair in the veil. Fan and jewels. 

Pose. She seems to have just passed through a curtain which 
she still holds in one hand and looks forward as if from a balcony, 
her fan spread in the other hand. 

Background. Green, with fawn color draped across it like a 
curtain, drawn at one side in a festoon. 



180 LIVING PICTURES AND TABLEAUX, 

7. Italian Contadina. 

A dark girl, in brown peasant waist, gay Eoman apron, round- 
necked chemisette, white sleeves to the elbow, gold beads, a red 
Italian head dress made of flannel, folded abont six inches wide 
and laid on the top of the head and allowed to hang to shoulders 
behind ; a similar fold of white cloth is underneath of the same 
width. Red coral bells for ears* and coral bracelets. The hair 
should be divided in half behind and braided, then each braid 
brought forward around and above the ears and fastened again 
behind, underneath head-dress. 

Pose. As if leaning against a wall, hands folded behind head. 

Background. Stone color. 

8. The Rescue. 

First figure is a fireman in wide, hard-leather hat and red shirt, 
with dingy face, descending a ladder with a little, curly-headed 
child tucked awkwardly under his arm. The child in a night- 
gown. Both figures expressive of fear and danger. The ladder 
must be firmly fixed close as possible to the frame. No drapery 
or background screen, but a few blackened boards leaning care- 
lessly as if fallen by chance. Red fire on tin plate should be 
burned at the back of the screen, the illumination and smoke 
being very effective. 

Note. — Singing may be introduced between the parts of the 
programme. 

With this as an example many similar entertainments will no 
doubt be suggested. One, showing the prominent characters of 
the Old Testament, would be very effective and make a lasting 
impression. 



DICK'S 

Recitations and Re, 



IN 



4 carefully compiled Series of Yolumes, uniform in *\zc an 

style, which will include ever^hing that is fresh aad 

uopular, introducing, also, the older Gems of 

the English Language that are always 

in demand: embracing 

CHARACTER SKETCHES, DIALECT PIECES, 
HUMOROUS, SENTIMENTAL, 

PATHETIC, PATRIOTIC, 

ELOQUENT, AND SI 

Recitations and Readings in Poetry and Prose, excluding evsr> 

thing that is not eminently appropriate, either 

for Declamation or Public Reading. 



Bach Number contains about 130 Pages of Reading Matter, 
printed on fine paper, from clear type, and handsomely bound 

in Illuminated Paper Cover 30 cts. 

Or Full Cloth. '. 50 Cts, 

Sixteen Numbers of the above Series are now ready. 



rs, upon receipt of price, will send a*iy of thi 
-' ■' books by mail, postage y: 

h In ordering books, tlie full name, foet-oifice^ 
i y and State should be plainly written* 



Wq publish a complete Descriptive Catalogue, which will be sent 
free on application. 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

, Bmx 3975. NEW YORK. 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

m — • . . , . — , , u 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. A Collection of Origi 

nal Moral and Humorous Dialogues. Adapted to the use of School and 
Church Exhibitions, Family Gatherings and Juvenile Celebrations on aJi 
Occasions. Ly S. A. Frost. 



Contents. 



Kbvel Reading 

The Bound Girl 

Writing a Letter 

The Wonderful Scholar 

gang 

The Language of Flowers . . , 

The Morning Call 

The Spoiled Child , 

The Little Travelers 

Little Things 

Generosity 

Country Cousins 

Winning the Prize , 

The Unfortunate Scholar.... 

The Day of Misfortunes 

Jealousy.. 

The May Queen 

Temptation Resisted 

I6raa, Paper Covers. Price. 
Bound in Boards 



n a 

1 1 

4 

2 

1 2 
4 

4 
4 
4 

2 2 
1 1 

2 
4 
2 
4 

3 

1 3 
5 

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Contents. 

A Place for Evervthing I 2 

I Want to be a Soldier ! 2 

Self-Denial 

The Traveler 

Idleness the Mother of Evil . 

The French Lesson 

Civility !Never Lost 

Who Works the Hardest ?. . 

The Everlasting Talker 

The Epicure 

True Charity 

Starting in Life 

I Didn't Mean Anything .... 

Ambition 

Choosing a Trade 

The Schoolmaster Abroad.. 

White Lies 

The Hoyden 



2 3 



3 

SOcts. 

50 eta. 



Frost's New Bonk of Dialogues. A series of entirely nevr and* 
original humorous Dialogues, specially adapted for performance at School 
Anniversaries and Exhibitions, or other Festivals and Celebrations of tha 
Yotmg Folks. 



Contexts. 



Slang versus Dictionary 

Country or City 

Turning the Tables 

The Force of Imagination . . 
The Modern Robinson Crusoe. 

The Threatened Visit 

The Dandy and the Boor 

Nature versus Education 

The British Lion and Ameri- 
can Hdbsier 

Curing a Pedant 

Pursuit of Knowledge under 

ultiea 

Mi Daily Governess 

Hie Army and Hai y 

Economy *is Wealth 



i 



Contents. §» 

« 

The Intelligence Office 4 

Cats 6 

Too Fine and Too Plain 

The Fourth of July Oration .... 5 

The Sewing Circle ! 

Fix 2 

The Yankee Aunt 2 

The Walking Encyclopedia.... 5 

The Novel Readers 

The Model Farmer 2 

Buying a Se King-Machine .... 4 

Sam Weller'B Valentine 2 

The Hungry Traveler ii 

Deaf as a Post 1 

The Kehearsal .... 6 

( 



These Dialogues are admirably adapted for home performance, as they re- 
quire no set scenery for their representation. By S. A. Frost 180 pages, 3 (Smo. 

Paner covers. Pri<se 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, Moth back... ♦* m 50 eta 



' 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed.' k 

» <-> — ■' 

Frost's Humorous and Exhibition Dialogues. This is a col- 

lection of sprightly, original Dialogues, in Prose and Verse, intended to be 
epoken at School Exhibitions. By S. A. Frost. 



Contests. 



Bumps 

Ajnateur Fanning 

The Valentine 

A.unt Bethiah's Journey 

Will You Advertise ? 

Sallies Visit to the City 

Country Quiet 

Circumstances Alter Cases... 

School or Work 

Bella's Visit to Camp 

The Hypochondriac 

Cross Purposes 

Rural Felicity 



Contents. 



2 I 



The Chatterbox 

Putting on Airs 

Writing a Tragedy 

Morning Calls 

When the Cat's Away the 

Mice will Play 

Very Bashful 

It Never Rains but it Pours. . . 

A Slight Mistake 

Munchausen Outdone 

The Train to Mauro 

The Unwilling Witness 

The Age of Progress 



1 

i 4 



The Dialogues are all good, and will recommend themselves to those who 
desire to have innocent fun — the prevailing feature at a school celebration. 

180 pages. Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 

Bound in boards 50 CtS» 



Holmes' Very Little Dialogues for Very Little Folks, 

Containing forty-seven new and original dialogues, with short and easy 
parts, almost entirely in words of one syllable, suited to the capacity aaa 
comprehension of very young children. 



Contents. 

fchs Bird's Nest 

Ail About Two Dolls 

I'm a Man 

What are Little Boys Good 

2-or? 

The Party 

Ike Rose Bush 

Which is Best? 

The Drum 

Willie's Walk 

The Parrot 

The Story 

How Daisv Went to School. 

Clara's Gifts 

What Tommy Found 

The Blind Man. 



Poor Sick Lucy. 
Josie'< Fault 



Th Rain Fairy. 

Guess ! , . 

Xhe Sick Doll.. 

WorfcorPlay.., 

The boat,. 

Littl€ Mischief. , 



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Contents. 



fc'aper covers. Price 

gerund in boards, cloth back. 



The Cow in the Garden 2 

Our Verse 1 

Jack's Nap 4 

The Little Beggars 1 

The Doll's Sash 

I Wish 

The Cousin From the City. . . 

Afraid of the Dark 

May's Five Dollar Note 

The Snow 

Harry's Wish 

The Dead Bird 

The orange Tree 

Little by JUttlc 

Kitty's Bath 

A Sritch in Time Savps Nine 

Keeping Store 

The Stolen Pets 

Lulu's Pic tore • 

Mother GN ►oee'fl Party 

Oh, Dear! 

ThatEehc 

The New Quarters | 1 

Visit of Santa Clans . . . |10 

3<?eta 

50 fits 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

^ _ * 

McBride's Comic Dialogues for School Exhibitions and 
Literary Entertainments. A collection of Original Humor- 
ous Dialogues, especially designed for the development and display of ama> 
teur dramatic talent, and introducing a variety of sentimental, sprightly, 
comic and genuine Yankee characters, and other ingeniously developed eo- 
eentricities. By H. Elliott McBride. 



Contexts. 

from Punkin Eidge 

Arabella's Poor Eolations 

A Bow in the Kitchen 

The Gumtown Woman's As- 
sociation 

Advertising for a Husband. . . . 

Ivery Inch a Gintleman 

Goose Hollow Farmer's Club. 
Reunion of Peter and Jane — 

Awful Boots 

A Pain in the Side 

16mo, illuminated paper covers. Price 30 CtSL 

Bound in boards 50 Cta 



*6- 


O 
3 


2 


2 


1 


2 


2 


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3 


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3 


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Contexts. 

Some thing to our Advantage . . 

Jrmtown Lyceum 

"United at Last 

Scene in a Backwoods School- 
Trouble in a Mormon Family.. 

Josiah's Proposal 

The Stage-Struck' Blacksmith. 
A Pumpus in a Shoemaker's 

Shop , 

Recess Speeches , 



a a 

4 i 1 

5 3 
3 I 
8 

1 5 

3 1 

4 2 

2 1 

5 5 



McBride' s All Kinds of Dialogues. A collection of Orig^ 

inal Humorous and Domestic Dialogues, introducing Yankee, French, Irish, 
Dutch, and other characters. Excellently adapted for Amateur perform- 
ances. By H. Elliott McBride. 



>> 


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Contents. 



Personating Olders 

Peleg and Patience 

Snarl's Children 

Woman's Rights 

A Boys" Meeting 

Mr. Worth's Farm Hands.... 

Charlie's Speech 

"Mrs. Thompson's Xephew.... 
An Anti-Railroad Meeting. .. . 

Saved. 

The Bungtown Lyceum ... 



Contents. 

Jednthan and Jana 

Cured 

Out All Around 

The Pine Valley Boys 

Marrying a Poetess 

The Old Aunt 

Rejected 

An Evening at Home 

John Eobbland Anna Cobb. . . 

A Eeconstructed Man 

An Interrupted Proposal 

A Visit from the Smiths 

This book constitutes a second series of McBride's Comic Dialogues, and 
jifFords an additional variety f the spirited dialogues and short dramatic 
tcenes contained in the latter book. They are all entirely original, and develoj 
in a marked degree the eccentricities and peculiarities of the various ideal, but 
genuine characters which are represented in them. They are specially a 
for School Exhibitions and all other celebrations where the th - ea 

tertainment is partly or entirely dependent on the efforts of the young ft 

Kfyuninated paper covers. Price 30 ctF 

fk^md in boards, « #.»• 50 5tr 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 



McRRIDE'S TEMPERANCE DIALOGUES. 

A collection of original Temperance Dialogues, intended for the u^e ol 
Schools, Temperance Societies, Bands of Hope, Divisions, Lodges, Literary 
Circles and home performance, introducing Yankee, Irish, Dutch, Negro 
and other characters. By H. Elliott McBride. 

CONTENTS. 

Acting Drunk 4 Male characters, 

Banishing the Biturs 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

The Poisoned Darkies 3 Male characters. 

A Meeting of Liquor Dealers 5 Male characters. 

Out of tie Depths 5 Male and 2 Female characters. 

Arresting the March of Intemperance 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

fraud's Command; or, Yielding to Temptation. .2 Male and 3 Female characters. 

A Beer- Drinker's Courtship 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

Ralph Coleman's Reformation 4 Male and 3 Female characters. 

Barney's Resolution 1 Male and 1 Female character. 

Commencing to Work 3 Male characters. 

A Temperance Meeting 7 Male characters. 

The Closing of V e "Eagle" 4 Male and 2 Female characters. 

Don't Marry a Drunkard to Reform Him 8 Male and 3 Female characters. 

Obtaining a Promise 1 ^lale and 1 Female character. 

183 pages, illuminated paper cover -30 cts 

Board cover. t , ..50 CtS 



McBRIDE'S HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. 

Designed for School Exhibitions, Literary Entertainments, and Amateur 
Theatricals. By H. Elliott McBride. A collection of new and humorous 
dialogues, full of humor and witty repartee; some of them introducing the 
inimitable conceits and drolleries of Irish, Dutch, Yankee and other Dialect 
characters. 

CO^TE^TS. 

Striking the Blow 1 Male and 4 Female characters. 

Curing the B or ro w er * ? Male and 3 Female characters. 

' A rrangemeni 2 ilaie and 2 T I raters. 

i Schooi 'j Male characters. 

Mrs. Bolivars Quilting G I 

4 1 

Scene in a Railway Station .4 Male and 2 Female characters. 

A Pantaloon Fig/d 1 Male and 2 Female characters, 

•ng .: meters. 

3 Male and 2 I 



Wars.. 7 Male and 1 Female cb 

Wings 3 Male and 3 Fem a] 

The Reclaimed Father 5 Male and 1 Female character. 

Leaving Jonah 3 Male and 1 Female character. 

192 pages, Uluminated paper cover 30 cts 

Boards % „, ..go cts 



Kavanaugli's Exhibition Reciter, for Very 

Little Children- A collection of entirely Original Eeci- 
tations, Dialogues and Short Speeches, adapted for very 
little boys and girls ; including also a variety of pieces, hu- 
morous, serious and dramatic, suitable for children froixi 
Three to Ten Years Old, for Public and Private School Ex- 
hibitions and other Juvenile Entertainments. 

It also includes a May-Day Festival for very little children, 
and a number of beautiful Speaking Tableaux. By the author 
of " Xavanaugh's Juvenile Speaker, " 

contents. • 



Salutatory.... 

The Gipsy's Warning 

Grandma's Talk 

Santa Claus 

They ask Me why I am so bad. 

The Power of Justice 

May Celebration 

Speech of Crown-Bearer. . . . 

Speech of Sceptre-Bearer. . . 

Speech of Daisy 

Speech of Snow Drop 

Speech of Rose 

Speech of Lily 

Speech of Venus 

Speech of Cupid 

Speech of Teniperarce 

Speech of Bacchus 

Speech of Comet 

Speech of May-Queen 

The Months 

The Four Queens 

Saint and Sinner 

The Dog in the Manger 

Where There's a Will, There's 

a Way 

Repartee 

The Midgets' Greeting... 

Boys will be Boys 

The Dog and His Shadow 
A Fellow who is Game. . . 

The Five Wishes 

What has been Done may be 

Done Again 

The Lark and her Young Ones. 

Only Five 

PoorOld Maids 

Monev is King 

The Two Frogs 

The Little Gentleman 

Confidence Versus Merit 

The Old Man and Death 

The Old Year Out and the New 

Year In 



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I'm Little But I'm tpunky . 
The Fox who Lost His Tan . 
The Gray Mare is the Better 

Horse 

Keep out of Debt 

The Apple of Discord 

The Smallest Grade 

The Birth of Paris 

The Boy and the Wolf 

The Origin of the Peacock . . 

Little Midget 

The Wolf and the Bear 

Scene from "Robin Hood.. . 

What Grandma Thinks 

The Fox and the Goat 

The Fairy's Revenge 

Good Night 

Four Years 

The Boy and His Mother 

Never Look Back 

Yours Truly 

An Old-Time Breakdown 

The Man and the Goose 

Speech for a Six- Year-Old. . . 
Speech for a Little Boy. . . . 

In Twenty Years 

Little Miss Ray 

A Hopeful Youth 

The Choicest Goods 

Valedictory 

Valedictory 

The Peddler's Caravan 

Robin Redbreast's Secret.. . 

Why? 

The Concert in the Wood. . . 



MUSIC. 

The Gipsy's Warning 

Jewels Bright 

BabvFair 

Gentle Zitella 

Tell Me, Where do Fairies 
Dwell? 



15 



J3oudcL in Illuminated Paper Covers 80 cts. 

Bound in Illuminated Board Covers 50 ots. 



Popular Boeks Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annwwfl. w ' 
Kavanaugh's Juvenile Speaker. For very little boys and 

girls. Containing short and easily-learned Speeches and Dialogues, ex- 
pressly adapted for School Celebrations, May-Day Festivals and other Chil- 
dren's Entertainments. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. This book is just the 
thing for Teachers, as it gives a great number of short pieces for very young 
children, with directions for appropriate dresses. 

It includes a complete programme for a May-Day Festival, with opening 
thorus and appropriate speeches for nineteen boys and girls, including 
nearly forty additional speeches for young and very small children. 

It introduces the May-Pole Dance, plainly described in every detail, and! 
forming a very attractive and pleasing exhibition. 

Besides the above, it contains the following Dialogues and Recitations, for 
two, three or more boys and girls of various ages: 

1 i 



Salutatory 

Salutatory 

Opening Song 

Opening Recitation 

An Interrupted Recitation . . . . 
An Imaginative Invention. . . . 

Speech 

A Joyful Surprise 

An Oration 

How He Had Him 

The Old Maid 

The Old Bachelor 

Poetry, Prose and Fact 

The Dumb Wife 

To Inconsistent Husbands 

Small Pitchers have Large 

Eacs 

Sour Grapes 

Not Worth While to Hate. . . 
A Strike Among the Flowers 

A Witty Retort 

The Young Critic 

"They Say" 

Speech 

" Angels Can Do No More.''. 

Recitation 

Dialogue 

Holiday Speech 

The Love-Scrape 

An Old Ballad 

The Milkmaid 

Billy Grimes, the Drover 

Grandmother's Beau 

Speech 

Honesty the Best Polity 



& 5 



Balance Due... 

Recitation , 

The Coming Woman , 

Speech , 

The Power of Temper 

Truth and Falsehood 

Recitation 

Recitation 

Recitation 

Christmas Forty Tears Ago. 

Speech 

Trving Hard 

The School-Boy 

Recitation 

"ITold You So" 

Speech 

Speech 

Speech ■. 

Choosing a Name 

Baby Bye 

Dialogue 

Little Puss 

Poor Men vs. Rich Men 

Helping Papa and Mamma.. . 

Annabel's First Party 

The Spendthrift Doll 

The Little Mushrooms 

Valedictory 

Riding in the Cars 

Riding in the Cars 

Speech 

The Cobbler's Secret 

Dialogue 

Valedictory 



The whole embraces a hundred 
pieces, from which selections can 
girls of from two to sixteen years 



and twenty-three easy and very effective 
be made to* suit the capacities of boys and 
of age. 



ICmo, illuminated paper cover. Price. ■ 30 cts» 

" Boards 50 cU 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Graham's School Dialogues for Young People, A new and 

original collection of Dialogues intended for Anniversaries and 

By George C. Graham. These dialogues have been written er: 

advanced scholars an opportunity for displaying their dramatic powers and 

ingenuity; they are exceedingly amusing, and full of ludicrous and telling 

stage-situations. 



Contexts. 



Contexts. 



The Erapty House 

Turning the Tables 

A Doctor by Proxy 

Strategy 

The Picnic Party 

An Aspirant for Fame . . . 

The New Boy 

Which was the Hero ?. . . 
Astonishing the Natives. 

The Critics 

"The Expected Visitor 



5 1 
4 

6 1 
4 

3 3 
3 
4 
3 

3 
6 

6 



A Nightmare of India 

Ar T '<dian Raid , 

Going ! Going ' Gone ! 

The Book-Peddler 

The Burglar- Alarm 

Missed His Chance 

The Girl of the Period... 
The Photograph Gallery. 

The Elocution Class 

Love and Stratagem 

Extremes Meet 



^mo, 176 pages, illuminated paper cover. 
* " (i *• Duuid " 



2 

3 

•2 
3 
1 
3 
3 

9 
3 

Price 30 cts. 

" 50cts. 



Burbank's Recitations and Readings. A collection of Hu- 
morous, Dramatic and Dialect Selections, edited and arranged for publit 
reading or recitation, by Alfrea P. Burbank. Containing many choioe selee 
tions never before in print, as well as> gome old favorites. 

CON" TENTS. 



Conn' s Description of the Fox Hant. 

The Tailor's Thimble. 

The O'Kellv Cabin. 

The "Oolagkaun." 

Hip Tan Winkle. 

The Death of the Old Squire. 

Schneider's Description of " Leah." 

Love on the Half-Shell. 

Father Phil's Collection. 

A Literarv Nightmare. 

The Birth of Ireland. 

The Irishman's Panorama. 

Mo!-. 

The Snip of Faith. 

try. 
A Se ded. 

ChristmasOsightin the Quarters. 
A. Love St 

The Steamboat Race. 
The Swell 

The Little Stow-a^ray. 
l6mo. 150pp. Prioe « 



Snrly Tim's Trouble. 

The* Water Mill. 

Th^ Fall of the Pembertoa ZJSJL 

De<»th of Little Jo. 

The Soldier's Eeprieve. 

Brother Anderson. 

A Basket of Flowers. 

Mah'sr John. 

Daddy Flick's Spree. 

The Ballad of Babie BelL 

Aux Italiens. 

Breitmann in Maryland. 

'• The Morning Argus " Cbituary D« 

partment. 
Snyder's Nose, 

Magdalena, or the Spanish Duel 
"Bay Billy." 

Return ot the Hillside Legion. 
Cuddle Doon. 
Sheridan's Ride. 
The Power of Prayer. 

25 0* 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 

. ■« 

frost's Dramatic Proverbs and Charades. Containing a col. 

liction of Original Proverbs and Charades, some of which are for DramatH 
Performance, and others arranged for Tableaux Vivants. By S. A. Frost 
Consisting of the following t 

DRAMATIC CHARADES. 



i i 



il 



Vfa&terpiece. 

Stratagem 

Antidote 

Dramatic 



Refinement . 
Love-Sick . . . 
Wayward . . . 
Manager 

DRA MA TIC PROVERBS. 



2 2 

2 2 

2 3 

3 2 



Faint Heart Xever Won Fair 

Ladv . 
There's Many a Slip 'Twixt 

the Cup and the Lip 



When Poverty Comes in at the 
Door, Love" flies out at the 
Window : 

All that Glitters is not Gold . 



2 * 3 

2 3 

2 3 

5 9 

2 2 

3 3 



CHARADES Ftf TABLEAUX VIVAXTS. 



Falsehood 3 Tableaux. 

Penitent 3 Tableaux. 

Mendicant 3 Tableaux. 

Novice 3 Tableaux. 

PROVERBS IN TABLEAUX. 



Washington 3 Tableaux. 

Mischief 3 Tableaux. 

Knighthood 3 Tableaux. 



Listeners Hear no Good of Them 

selves. 
Do not Trifle with Edged Tools. 
Charity Begins at Home. 



When the Cat's Away the Mice will 

Play. 
There's no Rose Without a Thorn. 
Killiug Two Birds with One Stone. 
It is no use to Cry over Spilt Milk. 

This book comprises a selection of A cting Proverbs and ingenious Chaiadea 
taken from u The Parlor Stage," a larger work by the same author. 

16mo, illuminated paper cover 30 eta 

Bound in Boards 50 CtS. 



Frost's Parlor Acting Charades. Intended solely for Per* 

formance in the Dra wing-Room, and requiring no expansive Scenery or Prop 
erties to render them effective. By S. A. Frost. This work contains tin 
following 

DRAMATIC CHARADES. 



Jtfatrimony., . 
Misfo **tame — 
Stage- Struck . 

Marplot 

Mad-Cap 

Inconstant . . . 



3 4 

2 3 

2 2 
1 4 

3 2 

4 2 



Domestic .... 
Purse-Proud. 
Bridegroom. . 

Mistake 

Manage 

Masquerade . 



These excellent and original Charades are full of brilliant repartee and 
amusing situations. They are selected from " The Parlor Stage," by tin 
same author. 

16mo, illuminated paper cover » ..80 eta. 

».')iao, illuminated boards <• ...50 Ct& 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at the PricdRAnnexed. 

> ■ ' ' - ■ — .» 

Nugent's Burlesque and Musical Acting Charades. By 

Edmund C. Nugent. Containing ten Charades, all in different styles, two 
of which are easy and effective Comic Parlor Operas, with Music and Piano- 
forte Accompaniments. To each Charade will be found an introductory 
note, containing directions and hints for its successful performance. 



Contents. 
i 

High Life, Operatic Style 
Dark Deeds, Sensational Style 
Marry in Haste and Kepent at 

Leisure, Bombastic Style. . . 
Wearing of the Green, Bouci- 

caultian Irish Style 

The Result of a Nap, Farcical 

Style 

Blue Beard, Burlesque Style. . 

Paper covers. Price 

Bound in boards, cloth back .. 



2 3 

3 2 

3 3 

3 3 

3 2 

2 2 



Contents. 

Monsieur Pierre,Pathetic Style 

Virtue Victorious, old standard 
Comedy Style 

Love, Domestic Style 

Afloat and Ashore, Maritime 
Style 

Tragedy Transmogrified, Bow- 
ery Style. 

Fairy Freaks, Fantastic Style. 



3 
3 

30 cts. 
50 ct& 



Hudson's Private Theatricals for Home Performance. A col- 

lection of fourteen humorous plays, suitable for an amateur entertain- 
ment. 



Contents. 

Explanation of Stage Direc- 
tions. 

How to Carry Out a Perform 
once Successfully. 

A Spanking Legacy 

A Slight Mistake 

Two Gentlemen at Mivart's.. . 

Furnished A partments 

Fireside Diplomacy 

Slighted Treasures 

180 pages. Paper covers. Price 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 



1 


1 


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5 






5 


2 




5 




2 


2 
4 



Contents. 



The Dutchman's Ghost 

Money Makes the Man 

A Silent Protector 

The Stage-Struck Clerk 

The Duchess of Mansfeldt .... 

A Pair of Pigeons 

A Most Unwarrantable Intru- 
sion 

Fairly Taken In. 



il 



.30 ct* 
.50 cte 



Frost's Book of Tableaux and Shadow Pantomimes. Con- 
taining a choice collection of Tableaux or Living Pictures, embracing : 

full directions for performing them. 
How to Arrange a Stage for Tab. 

leaux. 
How to Costume the Characters. 
How to Form Apptv^riats. Groups. 

"With complete stage instructions. 180 pages. 

Paper covers. Price. ... 30 Ct» 

v^oundiu boards,...* <.....,. 50 oH 



Moving Tableaux, Mother Goose 
Tableaux, Fairy-Tale Tableaux, 
Charade Tableaux, Proverb Tab- 
leaux, etc., etc. 

Shadow Acts and Pantomimes, with 



Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at tie Prices Annexed. 

•— l~ — — — * 

Parlor Theatricals; or, Winter Evenings' Entertainment, 

Abridged from " The Sociable." Containing Acting Proverbs, Dramatia 
Charades, Drawing-Room Pantomimes, Musical Burlesques, Tableaux 
Vivants, etc.; with instructions for Amateurs, how to construct a Stage 
and Curtain, how to get up Costumes and properties, on the "making. 
up" of Characters, Exits and Entrances, etc. Illustrated with engraving* 
Containing: 



ACTIXG PROVERBS. 

I 1 



''When the Cat's Away, then 

the Mice will Play." 

M It Xever Rains but it Pours.' 
" Honor among Thieves." . . . . 
u All is fair in Love or "War." . 



7 5 

5 1 

4 2 

3 2 



"Tis an 111 wind that Blows' 
Nobody Good." 4 

1 There is no Rose without 
Thorns." 2 



DRAMATIC CHARADES. 



Phantom . 
Contest... 
Dramatic. 



3 


2 


2 


3 


4 


2 



Antidote ' 2 

Friendship 8 

Bandage 4 



3 Acts. 

Pigtail 3 Acts. 

Keighbor 3 Acts. 



ACTING CHARADES ; OR, DRAWIXG-ROOM PANTOMIMES, 

Pastil 3 Acts. 

Backgammon 3 Acts, 

A Little Misunderstanding. . .4 Acts, 

MUSICAL BURLESQUE. 

Orpheus and Eurydice ; or, The Wandering Minstrel. .4 Males and 2 Females. 

DRAWING-ROOM FARCE. 

Irresistibly Impudent 4 Males and 1 Female. 

Paper covers. Price 30 ct3. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 



Amateur Theatricals and Fairy-Tale Dramas. A Collec- 
tion of original plays, expressly designed for drawing-room performances. 
By Miss S. A. Frost. 



1 


-3 


a h 


12 


7 


o 


2 


4 


3 


3 


3 


3 


2 



Contents. 

Cinderella; or, The Little Glass 

Slipper 

Beauty and the Beast. . . 
Blue Beard 



i 



Contents. 

Mr. John Smith 

The Young Amazon 

Wooing Under Difficulties .... 

Bolts and Bars 

All's Well that Ends Well.... 3 2 

These plays were all written for the express purpose of being performed in a 
private parlor. They are short, amusing, and all new and original. 16mo, 
180 pages. 

Paper covers. Price 30 eta, 

Beiiad in boards, with cloth baoi • ,•.,,.....,,.10 etii 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Biblical Things Not Generally Known. A collection of 

Facts, Notes, and Information concerning much that is -rare, quaint, 
curious, obscure, and little known in relation to Biblical subjects. This 
work is complete in two volumes, the second volume containing the 
entire index to both. The entire work is indispensable to Bible Students 
and Sunday School Teachers. The two volumes may be had separately 
or in sets, boxed. 
12 mo, cloth. Each volume $1.50. 

Dick's Log" And Lumber Measurer. A complete set of 

Tables, with full instructions for their use, showing at a glance the cubi- 
cal contents of logs and the feet of inch-boards they contain, the measure- 
ment of timber of all kinds and dimensions, and all other necessary infor- 
mation for measuring and estimating the value of lumber according to 
present usages. It includes also useful and practical Tables of Wages by 
the day, week, and month, and valuable statistical matter of interest to 
carpenters, builders, and the lumber trade. All the tables are new, re- 
liable, and proved correct. 
Bound in boards. 25 cts, 

Ogden's Model Speeches for all School Occasions. Contain- 
ing Original Addresses and Orations on everything appertaining to School 
Life; comprising Set Speeches on opening and dedicating new Schools 

. and Academies, all kinds of School Ceremonials, Salutatory and Valedic- 
tory Orations, Presentations, and conferring Honors; Burlesque Speeches, 
Prologues and Epilogues for School Exhibitions, etc., including practical 
hints on Extempore Speaking. By Christol Ogden. 

Paper covers 50 Cts. 

Bound in Boards 75 Cts' 

Dick's Diverting Dialogues, A collection of effective Drama- 
tic Dialogues, written expressly for this work by various authors, and 
adapted for Parlor Performances. They are short, full of telling "situa- 
tions," introducing easy dialect characters, and present the least possible 
difficulties in scenery and costume to render them exceedingly attractive. 
Including a complete Programme of "Living Pictures." 

Paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in Boards 50 Cts^ 

Dick's Comic and Dialect Recitations, A capital collection 

of comic Recitations, ludicrous Dialogues, funny Stories, laughable De- 
scriptive Pieces, and inimitable Parodies, in Yankee, Dutch, Irish, and Chi- 
nese Dialects, suitable for Evening Entertainments and Exhibitions. 
Edited by Wm. B. Dick. 

Paper covers 30 ct3. 

Bound in boards 50 Cts. 

Pitman's Phonographic Teacher. A practical Guide to 

Phonography or Phonetic Short-hand. By Isaac Pitman. New and re- 
vised edition. This is the original work by the inventor of the system, 
with all the improvements to the present day, and acknowledged to be tho 
best method f r Short-hand writers 15 cts. 

Key to the Phonographic Teacher. An efficient aid to the 

learner in practicing and applying Pitman's Method of Short-hand, witk 
exercises and explanations l&Ctf. 

Stimulants. An essay on their uses, -with suggestions for re- 
forming the laws which control them in accordance with personal liberty 
and public welfare. By J. M. Emerson. "A masterly dissertation on this 
prominent and difficult topic." Small 1 to, cloth , .50 Cts, 



Dick's Dutch, French and Yankee Dialect Recitations. 

An unsurpassed Collection of Droll Dutch Blunders. Frenchmen's Funny Mistakes,and 
Ludicrous and Extravagant Yankee Yarns, each Recitation heing in its own dialect. 



Der Nighd Pehind Grisd- 

rnas. 
The Dutchman's Snake. 
Yoppv's Yarder und Hees 

Drabbles. 
Dhree Shkaders. 
Katrina Likes Me Poody 

Yell. 
Hans in a Fix. 
Leedle Yawcob Strauss. 
How a Dutchman vras Done. 
Dot Lambs vot Mary Haf 

Got. 
The Yankee and the Dutch- 
man's DAg; 
Zvrci Lager. 
Schneider's Ptide. 
The Dutchman and the 

Small-pox. 
Tiamondts on der Prain. 
A Dutchman's Testimony 

in a Steamboat Case. 
Hans Breitrnann and the 

Turners. 

FRENCH DIALECT. 
The French man's Dilemma; 

or, N amber Five Coilect 

Street. 
The Frenchman's Revenue. 
No or ell and the Organ 

Grinder. 
How a Frenchman Enter- 
tained John Bull. 
Mr. Bogera and Monsieur 

Denise. 
The Frenchman and the 

Landlord. 
The Frenchman and the 

Sheep's Trotters. 



DUTCH DIALECT. 
Dor Mnlo Shtnod on der 

ibnad Deck. 
Go Vay, Becky Miller. 
&?r Drummer. 
3Iy^?l Snyder's Barty. 

3 Nose. 
Dvin' Yords of Isaac 
Fiitx und I. 

Betsey und I Hafe Bust Ub. 
Schneider sees Leah. 
Dot Funny Leetle Baby. 
Sehnitzert's Philosopede. 
Dor Do? U nd der Lobster. 
Eehlosser's Ride. 
Mine Katrine. 
Maud Mailer. 
Eir Deuts-rhes Lied. 
Hans and Fritz. 
Schneider's Tomatoes. 
Deltsche Advertisement. 
Yas Ben,der Henshpecked. 
Life, Liberty and Lager. 
Der Goot Lookin' Shnow. 
Mr. Schmidt's Mistake. 
Home Again. 
Dot Surprise Party. 
Der Wreck of dec Hezberus. 
Isaac Rosenthal on the 

Chinese Question. 
Hans Breitmann'* Party. 
Shoo Flies. 

A Dutchman's Answer. 
How Jake Schneider YTeot 

Blind. 
I Vash so Glad I Vash Here. 
The Duchman and the 

Yanl 
How the Dutchman Killed 

the "Wooden uck. 

This Collection contains all the best dialect pieces that are incidentally scattered 
through a large number of volumes of v> Recitations and Readings," besides new and 

excellent sketches never before published. 170 pages, paper cover : >0 cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Dick's Irish Dialect Recitations, A carefully compiled Collec- 
tion of Rare Irish Stories, Comic, Poetical and Prose Recitations, Humorous Letters 
and Funny Recitals,alltold with the irresistible Humor of the Irish dialect. Containing 

Paddv's Dream. 



A Frenchman's Account of 
the Fall. 

I Yant to Fly. 

The Generous Frenchman. 

The Frenchman and the 
Flea Powder. 

The Frenchman and the 
Rats. 

Monsieur Tonson. 

Yat You Please. 

The Frenchman and the 
Mosquitoes. 

The Frenchman's Patent 
Screw. 

The Frenchman's Mistake. 

Monsieur Mocquard Be- 
tween Two Fires. 



YANKEE DIALECT. 

Mrs. Bean's Courtship. 

Hez and the Landlord. 

Squire Billings' Pickerel. 

Deacon Thrush in Meeting. 

The Yankee Fireside. 

Peter Sorghum in Love. 

Mrs. Smart Learns how to 
Skate. 

Capt. Hurricane Jones on 
the Miracles. 

The Dutchman and the 
Yankee. 

The Yankee Landlord. 

The Bewitched Clock. 

The Yankee and the Dutch- 
man's Dog. 

Aunt Hetty on Matrimony. 

The Courtin'. 

Ebenezer on a Bust. 

Sut Lovingood's Shirt. 



Biddv's Troubles. 

Birth of St. Patrick, The. 

Bridget Hoolegoin's Let- 
ter. 

Connor. 

Dermot C'Dowd. 

Dick .Ma'-namira's Matri- 
monial Adventures. 

Dvins< Confession of Paddy 
M'Cabe. 

Father Molloy. 

Father Phil Blake's Collec- 
tion. 

Father Roach. 

Fight of Hell-Ke'tle, The. 

Handy Andy's Little Mis- 
takes. 

How Dennis Took the 
Pledge. 

How Pat Saved his Baeon. 

Irish Asti-onomv. 



Irish Coquetry. 
Irish Drummer, The. 
Irish Letter, An. 
Irish Philosopher, The. 
Irish Traveler, The. 
Irishman's Panorama, The. 
Jimmy McBride's Letter. 
Jimmy Butler and the Owl. 
King O'Toole and St. Kevin, 
r.itty Malone. 
Love in the Kitchen. 
Micky Free and the Priest. 
Miss Malony on the Chinese 

Question. 
Mr. O'Hoolahan's Mistake. 
Paddy Blake's Echo. 
Paddy Fagan's Pedigree. 
Paddy McGrath and the 

Bear. 
Paddy O'Rafther. 
Paddy the Piper. 



Pat and the Fox. 

rat and the Gridiron. 

Pat and his Musket. 

rat and the Oysters. 

Pat's Criticism. 

Pat's Letter. 

Pat O'Flanigan's Colt. 

Patrick O'Rouke and tha 

Frosrs. / 

Pandeen O'Rafferty's Sayf 

Voyage. 
Peter Mulrooney and th* 

Black Filly. 
Fhaidiig Crohoore. 
Rory O'M ore's Present to 

the Priest. 
St. Kevin. 

Teddy O'Toole's Six Bulls. 
Wake of Tim O'Hara, The. 
"Widow Cummiskey, The. 



This Collection contains, In addition to new and original pieces, all the very best 
Recitations in the Irish dialect that can bo gathered from a whole library of " Recita- 
tion " books. It is full of sparkling witticisms and it furnishes also a fu»d of entertain- 



sparkling-v 
i matter for perusal in leisure moments. 
BouuU In fttiras; doth bank, ,.,.,,.,,.....;, 



170 pages, paper cover. . 



,.3« e$fu 



Tambo's End-Men's Minstrel Gags, Containing some of trie 

best Jokes and Repartees of the most celebrate d "burnt cork' 1 performers of enr 
day Tambo and Bones In all sorts and manner of scrapes. This Book 13 f ."1 of 
Burnt-Cork Drolleries, Funny Stories, Colored Conundrums, Gags and Witt? Repar- 
tee, all the newest side-splitting conversations between Tambo, Bones, and the In 
terlocutor, and will be found useful alike to the professional and amateur performer- 
Contents : 



A Bird that can't be 
Plueked 

Annihilating Time 

At Last 

Bashful 
I Bet. The 
f Big Fortune, A 
itBlackberrying 
{Black Swan, The 
.'Bones and his little Game • 
! Bones and the Monkey 
Tricks 

Bones as a Fortune Teller 

Bones am a Legitimate Ac- 
tor 

Bones as a Pilot 

Bones as a Prize Fighter 

Bones nsa" Stugent " 

Bones as a Traveler 

Bones as a Victim to the 
Pen 

Bones as a Walkist 

Bones assists at the Per- 
formance of a New Piece 

Bones attends a seance 

Bones finds Himself Fa- 
mous 

Bones gets Dunned 

Bones gets Stuck 

Bones has a Small Game 
with the Parson 

Bones' Hor,se Kace 

Bones in an Affair of Honor 

Bones in Love 

Bones keeps a Boarding 
House 

Bones on the War Path 

Bones on Georgo Washing- 
ton 

Bone3 on the Light Fantas- 
tic 



Bones Opens a Spout Shop 
Bones Plays O'l-ella 
Bones sees a Ghost 
Bones Slopes with Sukey 

siy 

Bones tells a u Fly " Story 

Brother will come home to- 
night 

Bones as a Carpet Bagger 

Bones as an Inksllnger 

Bones in a New Character 

Bones in Clover 

Bones' Love Scrape 

"Cullud" Ball, The 

Conundmms 

Curious Boy 

DancingMad 

Dat's What JL'd Like to 
Know 

Definitions 

De Madder of Inwention 

Difference, The 

Don't Kiss every Puppy 

" Far Away in AJabam 1 " 

First White Man, Tho 

Fishy Argument 

Four-Eleven -Forty-Four 

Four Meetings, The 

From the Poiks 

Girl at the Sewing Ma- 
chine 

Hard Times 

Hard to take a Hint 

Heavy Spell, a. 

Hight'alutin' 

Horrible ! 

How Bones became a Min- 
strel 

How Tambo took his Bit- 
ters 

How to do it 



Everything new and rich. Paper covers 
Bound in hoards, with cloth back 



Impulsive Oration 

Inquisitive 

Jeailusest of her Sect 

Legal Problem. A 

Liberal Discount for Cash 

Manager in a Fix, The 

Mathematics 

Merry Life, A 

Momentous Question 

Mosquitoes 

Music 

N otes 

Ob Course 

Our Shop Girls 

Pomp and Ephy Green 

Presidency on de Brain 

Proposed Increase of Taxes 

Railroad Catastropho 

Reality versus Romance 

Rough on Tambo 

Sassy Sam and Susie Long 

School's In 

Shakespeare with a Ven- 
geance 

Simple Sum in Arithmetie 

Sleighing in tho Park 

Sliding Down the Hill 

Stylo 

Sublime 

Swearing by Proxy 

Tambo's Traveling Agent 

That Dear Old Home 

'•The Pervisions, Josiar " 

Thieves 

Tonsorial 

Toast, A 

Cncle Enh's Lament 

Waiting' to See Him Off 

You Bet 

And 40 popular songs and 
danceb. 



SOcts. 



McBride's Comic Speeches and Recitations. Designed for 

Schools, Literary and Social Circles- By H. Elliott McBridc, Author of "McBride's 
Humorous Dialogues," etc., etc. This is one of the very best series of original 
speeches, in Yankee, Darkey, Spread-Ragle and village stvles, with a number of 
diverting addresses and recitations, and fnnnv stories, "forming an excellent volume 
of selections for supplying the humorous element of an exhibition. Contents: 



A Burst of Indignation 
Disco'so by a Colored Man 
A Trumpet Sarmon 
Sarmon on Skilletvillers 
Nancy Matilda Jones 
Hezekiah's Proposal 
About the Biliikinses 
Betsy and I are Out Once 

Mffre 
A Stump Speech 
About Katharine 
Deborah Doolittle's Speech 

on Women's Rights 
A Salutatory 
A Mournful Story 

Paper covers, illuminated 
Board covers, ilktmiB&t€d 



An Address to Schoolboys 

Zachariah Popp's Court- 
ship and Marriage 

A Sad Story 

How to Make Hasty Pud- 
ding 

My Matilda Jan3 

Courtship, Marriage, Sep- 
aration and Beunion 

Lecture by a rankee 

A Colored Man's Disco'se 
on Different Subjects 

A Girl's Address to Boys 

McSwinger's Fate 



Peter Peabody's Stump 
Speech 

Mr. Styx Rejoices on Ac- 
count of a New Well 
Spring 

Victuals and Drink 

Speech by Billy Higgins on 
the Destruction of His 
Kambo Apple Troe 

A Boy's Address to Young 
La-lies 

An Old Man's Address to 
Young Wives 

Salu-ta-tat-u-a-ry 

Valedictory. 



3 Otis. 
aVU. 



Bfeecher's Recitations and Readings. Humorous, Serious,- 

Dramatic. Designed for Public and Private Exhibitions. Contents : 

Sign or Billstnethi's Dane- 



Miss Maloney at the Den- 
tist's 
Lost and Found 
Mygel Snyder's Earty 
Magdaleua 

Jini W olfe and the Cats 
The Woolen Dell 
The Charity Dinner 
Go-Morrow ; or, Lots Wife 
The Wind and the Moon 
Dvin' Words of Isaac 
Maude MuUerln Dutch 
Moses the Sassy 
Yarn of the "Nancy Bell" 
Paddy the Piper 
Schneider sees "Leah " 
Caldwell of Springfield 
Artemus Ward's Panorama 
Tale of a Servant Girl 
How a Frenchman Enter- 
tained John Bull 
Tiamondta on dor Prain 
King Robert of Sicily 
Gloverson the Mormon 
De Pint wki Olo Peto 
Put and the Pig 
The Widow Bedott's Letter 
Paper covers. Price 
Bound iu boards, cloth back 



The Cry of the Children 

The Dutchman aud the 
Small-pox 

Fruip;n 

P^is— Descriptive Recita- 
lan 

A Reader Introduces ETim- 
sell t > an Audienco 

A Dutchman's Dolly Tar- 
den 

<; Rock of Ages *' 

Feeding the Black Filiies 

The Hornet 

The Glove and the Lions 

I Vaut to Fly 

That Dog of Jim Smiley's 

The Faithful Soul 

'• My New Pittayatees " 

Mary Ann's Weddii g 

An Inquiring Yankee 

The Three Bells 

Love in a Balloon 

Mrs. Brown on the Streets 

Shoo Flies 

Discour&o by the Rev. Mr. 
Bosan 

Without the Children 



ig Academy 
Dor Soot Lookin Shnow 
The Jumping Frog 
The Lost Chord 
The Tale of a Leg 
That West-side Dog 
How Dennis Took thf 

Pledge 
The Fisherman's Summons 
Badger's Debut as Mamie* 
Ueze-kiah Stole- the Spoous 
Paddy's Dream 
Victuals and Drink 
II j v,- Jake Schu«ider Went 

Blind 
Aurelia's Young Man 
Mrs. Browu on Modern 

Houses 

Farm Yard Song 

Murphy's Pork Parrel 

The Prayer Seeker 

An Extraordinary Phe- 
nomenon 

-e of Young Bangs 

A Mule Ride in Florida 

Dhree Shkaders 

SOrts..; 

SOets. 



Dick's Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches and Stump 

Sp<»*ch<»s. Containing the following Rich Collection of Negro Dialogues, Scenes, 
Farces. End-Men's Jokes, Rags, Rollicking Stories, Excruciating Conundrums, Ques- 
tions ano Answers for Bones, Turuuo and Interlocutor, etc. Contents; 



I's Gwine to Jino de Ma- 
sons 
Jes' Nail dat Mink to de 

Stahlo Do'— Oration 
But the Yillain still Pur- 
sued Her— A Thrilling 
Tale 
Bones at a Free-aud-Easy 
Buncombe Speech 
Shakespeare Improved 
End Gag — Boues aud Tam- 

bo 
A Man of Nerve— Comic 

Sketch 
Eud Gag— Bones and Tarn- 
bo 
Uncle Pete— Darkey Sketch 
The Rival Darkeys 
The Stage-Struck Darkey 
Add Ryman's Fourth of 

July Oration 
Absent -Mindedness — Bones 

and T;icibo 
Don't Call a Man a War 
The Mr irkev 

Rev Uncle Jim's Sermon 
The 'Possum-Run Do baling 

Society 
Tim Murphy's Iri c h Stow 
Braider Bones in Love — 

rlocxrtor and Bones 
'Lixey ; or. The Old Gum 

G:i;u?- Negro Scene 
P. Ider Bones' Duel 
Brnddpr Bones' Sweetheart 
Brudder Boues in Hard 

Luck 
Two Left-Bones and Tambo 
ITS page*, paper covers 
Btrtiiid ka bvund, cloili baak 



Speech on Boils 

How Bones Cured a Smoky 

Chimney 
Sermon on Keards, Hosses, 

Fiddlers, etc. 
Huggin' Lamp-Posts 
Not Opposed to Matrimony 
How Pat Sold a Dutchman 
The Coopers— one Act 1-aree 
Questions Easily Answered 

—Bones and Tambo 
Examination in Natural 
History— Minstrel Dia- 
logue 
O'Quirk's Sinecuro 
The Widower's tpnech 
Rones at a Raffle 
Uncle Pete's Sermon 
Bones at a Soiree— Interlo- 
cutor and Bones 
Speech on Woman's Rights 
limes' Discovery 
Mark Twain Introduces 
Hirasell — Characteristic 
Speech 
Speech on Happ'ness 
Burnt Corkers— Minstrel 

Dialogue 
The Nervous Worn p. n 
The Five Senses— Minstrel 

Dialogue 
The Dutchman's Experi- 
ence 
Essay on tho Wheelbarrow 
Rones ;.t a Pic-Nie 
Tko Virginia Mummy- 
Negro Farce 



Brudder Bones in Clover 

Artemus Ward's Advice to 
Husbands 

Wnere the Lion Ronreth, 
and tho Wang-Doodle 
Mourneth 

Romeo and Juliet in ISfO 

Artemus Ward's Panorama 

Brudder Bonos ns a Carpet- 
Bagger — Interlocutor aud 
Bones 

Major Jones' Fourth of July 
Oration 

Curiosities for a Museum- 
Minstrel Dlaloguo 

Burlesque Oration on Mat« 
rimony 

Brudder Bones on the Rag- 
ing Can awl 

The Snackin'-Tnrtle Man- 
Ethiopian Sketch 

Bones' Dreaui— Ethiopian 
Sketch 

Come and Hug Me 

Widow O'Brien's Toast 

Scenes at the Police Court 
—Musical Minstrel Dia- 
logue 

Brudder Bones as a Log- 
Roller 

De Pint Wld Old Pete- 
Negro Dialect Recitation 

A Touching Appeal— Dutch 
Dialect Recitation 

Wounded in the Corners 

Darkev Dialogue 

End Gag— lntuilocutor and 
Bones 

tOete. 



80et» 
ibeti 



Kavanaugh's New Speeches and Dialogues for Young 

Children. Containing easy pieces in plain language, readily understood 
by little children, and expressly adapted for School Exhibitions and Christ- 
mas and other juvenile celebrations. By Mrs. Russeli Kavanaugh. This 
is an entirely new series of Recitations and Dialogues by this author, and 
full of pieces, in her well-known style of familiar simplicity, admirably 
calculated to give the little ones additional opportunities to distinguish 
themselves before an audience. It contains the following: 



Introduction 

Opening Speech 

Speech for a School Exhibition 

The 1'aresB (The Fates) 

Which Would You Rather Be? 

Speech for a Tiny Girl , 

An Old Story, for a Child. . . 

Speech for a Boy 

A Sudden Revulsion 

Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. A 

Novel Christmas Festival. . . 
May Celebration 

Speech of Crowner 

Speech of Sceptre-Bearer. . . 

Speech of Fun 

Speech of Frolic 

Speech of Vanity 

Speech of Modesty 

Speech of Beauty 

Speech of Jollity 

Speech of Boot-Black 

Speech of News-Boy 

Speech of May Queen 

The Tables Turned, for a Child 

Speech lor a Boy 

Speech for a Small Boy 

Speech for a Very LiitleBoy. 
Trie Farmer Boy and the City 

Dude 

TheSmull Boy 

Transposed 

The San and His Satellites. 

Speech of the Sun 

Speech of the Moon 

Speech of Mercury 

Speech of Mars 

Speech of Jupiter 

Sp seen of Satu rn 

Speech of Venus 

True Happiness 

G-eniuR and Application ... 
Five Versus Twenty-five... 

Saved fro m Suicide 

Speech tor a Very Small Child 

Three. Enigmas 

Tickle his Hand with a Ten 

Dollar Bill 

Speech for a Small Boy — 
Beautiful Belles, for several 

Girls 

Beautiful Dudes, for several 

Boys 



Four Little Rose Buds 

A Bouquet 

'fa I Tal 

Speech for a Very Little Girl.. 
Speech for a Very Little Boy . '. 

Blood Will Tell. 

A Warning 

A Race lor Life : 

" He is a Brick " 

Speech for a Small Boy 

Watching 

Gold 

A Touching Incident 

Buy a Broom, for several Girls 
Confusion Worse Confounded, 
A Relentless Tyrant, tor a Child 

My Brotl sr Jean 

The Gratitude of the World. 

At the Skating Rink 

Dimes ! Oh, Dimes ! 

A Fatal Bait, for a Child.... 
The Decorated Donkev, lor a 

! Child * 

Tight Times 

{ The Reason Why 

A Modern Flirtation 

Country Meeting Talk , 

iSpeech 

i Deeds of Kindness 

The Boy's Complaint 

What Not to Do 

Temperance Address 

The Quarrelsome Bov 

An Awful Fly, for a Little One 

Content 

The Winds of the Prairie . . 
Santa Claus' Christmas Tree 

Speech 

The Creator 

Where Did They Go. 

[The Parting Lovers 

ID, > Your Best 

Cherish Kindly Feelings 

: Advice to Boys 

•I Wish I Was a Grown-up . . 

?No Time Like the Present 

Toe Boys We Need 

Summer Vacation , 

MUSIC. 

Three Bright Stars , 

Beautiful Belles 

Buy a Broom 



Mmo., Blnminated Sapar Cover 30 cts. Beards 50 Cta 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices Amiezed. 
Eayanaugh's Comic Dialogues and Pisces for Little CM1- 

dren. Containing Short and Easy original pieces and dialogues specially 
designed for Sunday School and other Exhibitions, and Christmas, ZLzy 
and similar occasions. Ey Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. An entirely new 
series of pieces, very plainly and simply written, and easily learned and 
comprehended by young children. Some of the pieces are arranged so as 
to include ail the little boys and girls in a class. 



CONTENTS. 






Introduction , 

Short Christmas Performance 

Too Late 

Sing a Song of Christmas 

The Golden Rule 

Dumpsy-Frumpsy 

Luke Major 

The Four Musicians 

A Peevish Boy 

Robin Redbreast 

Recitation 

The Owl and Nightingale 

Recitation 

Recitation 

The Little Truant 

A Smart Girl 

Dolly and Me 

The Year 

Ruby's Stratagem 

Novel Christmas Tree 

Fanny Gray 

Recitation 

Recitation 

Forbearance 

Open the Gates as High as the 

Sky 

The Queen of a Night 

Be Prompt in what you do 

lflmo, illuminated paper cover. Price 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back ......... 50 Cts, 



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The Fly and the Lamb 

A Merry Journey 

Pat's Purchase 

The Three Spectres 

Baby 's Dead 

The Olden Times 

The Age we Live in 

Story of the Einkaiikee 

Winning a Wager 

Energy and Industry 

The Shy Gallant 

Lady Quaen Anne 

Ten Thousand a Year 

Dialogue 

Recitation 

Six Years Old 

Kitty's Birds 

Wine and Water 

We are but Little Folks 

Seven Days in a Week 

The Stars 

The Song of the Leaves 

Recitation 

What Little Folks Can Do. 

Vacation 

What the Winds Bring 

Closing Day 



Popular Books seat Fsee of Postage at tke Prices annexed. 
MARTINE'S DROLL DIALOGUES 



LAUGHABLE RECITATIONS. 

By Arthur Martine, author of "Marline's Letter- Writer," ete. ? 
etc. A collection of Humorous Dialogues, Comic Recitation* 
Brilliant Burlesque, Spirited Stump Speeches and Ludicrous 
Farces, adapted for School and other Celebrations and for Horns 
Amusement. 

CONTENTS. 



Hints to Amateur Performers in Par- 
lor Theatricals. 

Explanation of Stage Directions, 
with Diagram. 

Prelude to an Evening's Recitations. 
Humorous Poetical Address. 

The BeH and the Gong. Original 
Humorous Recitation. 

Mrs. Dove's Boarding Bouse. Origi 
nal Amusing Recitation. 

The Yv 7 ilkias Family. A Recitaf.oi, 
full of Puns and Jokes. 

The Lawyer's Stratagem. How ho 
tricked the Squire. 

Eulogy e?. Laughing. A well-knr >va 
popular Recitation. 

Drawing a Long Row. Dram-rtio 
Dialogue for 3 males and J l'u ovale. 

"Woman. The Origin of Woman's 
Ascendency over Man. 

Veny Raynbrs Bear Story. A 
thrilling characteristic narration. 

The Game of Life. The Moral Ap- 
plication of a game at Euchre. 

The Fortune Hunter. Laughable 
Dialogue for 2 males and 3 females. 

The Parson and the Widow. A. 
short. Poetical Recitation. 

Hezekiah Stubbing' Fourth of July 
Oration. A Yankee Stump Speech. 

Make your "Wills. Ludicrous Farce 
for 7 male characters. 

Mr. Rogers and ii onsieur Denise. A 
celebrated Comic Recitation. 

The Darkey Debating Society. Ethi- 
opian Dialogue for"2 males. 

The Scandal Monger. Dramatic 
Dialogue for 2 males and 2 females. 

Poor Richard's Sayings. With An- 
notations by Lord Dundreary. 

Prologue to ' : The Apprentice."'' 

Address in the character of "Hope." 
A Prologue for an Entertainment. 

Parody on "the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, 



Bombastes Furioso. A Burlesqut 

for 7 males. 
Characteristic Address. The wail 

of a Printer's DeviL 
Examining do Bumps. Ethiopian 

Dialogue for 2 males. 
Election Stump Speech. Addressed 

to the Electors of Wetherstield. 
A Matrimonial Tiff. Characteristic 

Dialogue for 1 male and 2 females. 
The French man and the Sheep'* 

Trotters. Comic Recitation. 
The Poor Relation; or, Love Me, 

Love my Dog. Comio Drama for 

7 males " 
Vut you Please. Experiences of tw<? 

Frenchmen in Emriaad. 
The Babes in the Wood Burlesque 

for 3 males and 4 foma «>s. 
My Aunt. Poetical Recitation. 
Handy Andv's Little Mistake* 

Laughable Irish Story. 
The Cat Eater. Comic Recitation. 
A Shocking Mistake. Dialogue fo\ 

3 males and 2 females. 
Wanted a Governess. A satiric all/ 

comic Recitation. 
The Rival Broom Makers. Coiale 

Recitation. 
Paudeen O'RafFertv's Say-Tovage. 

Laughable Irish Reciiatioi? 
Mr. Caudle's Weeding Dinner. A 

Curtain Lecture. 
Our Cor.sins. Negro Dialogue for 9 

nude characters. 
Mr. Caudle has been made a Mason. 

Curtain Lecture. 
Address of Sergeant Puzfuz at tut 

Trial of Pickwick. 
The Wonderful Whalers. A very 

surprising narrati ve. 
Sam weliers Valentine. Character 

Dialogue for 2 males. 
Job Trotter's Secret. Amusing Dia* 

logue, for 3 males. 

IgSpages. Paper covers. Price. SO OtS. 

Ifcn\nd *n board*, aloth back 4>0 Otfc 



Popular Bocks sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
WILSON'S BOOK OF RECITATIONS 

AND 

DIALOGUES. 

With, instructions in Elocution and Declamation. Containing a 
choice selection of Poetical and Prose Recitations. Designed 
as an Assistant to Teachers and Students in preparing Exhibi- 
tions. By Floyd B. Wilson, Professor of Elocution. 

CONTEXTS. 



Instruction in Elocution and Dec- 
lamation. 

Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery. 

Sheridan's Ride. 

There's but one Pair of Stockings. 

Modulation. 

The Drummer Boy's Burial. 

John Maynard, the Pilot. 

The Bovs. 

The Duel. 

Lochiel's Warning. 

Socrates Snooks. 

Mosaic Poetry. 

Burial of the Champion of his Class 
at Yale College. 

Scott and the Veteran. 

Barbara Frietcnie. 

X Wouldn't— Would Tou f 

The Professor Puzzled. 

Thanatopsis. 

The Two Koads. 

The Pawnbroker's Shop. 

The Sophomore's Soliloquy. 

The Nation's Hymn. 

Address to a Skeleton. 

A Glass of Cold Abater. 

Little Gretchen ; or. New Tear's Eve. 

Good News from Ghent. 

The Sea Captain's Story. 

Our Heroes. 

The Closing Year. 

Burial of Little Nell. 

The Picket Guard. 

The Poor Man and the Fiend. 

Our Country's Call. 

The Conquered Banner. 

The High Tide; or, The Brides of 
Enderby. 

Death of Gaudentis. 

Don Garzia. 

Past Meridian. 

The Founding of Gettysburg Monu 
ment. 

Spartacns to the Gladiators. 

Soliloquy of the Dying Alchemist. 

The Country Justice. 

Unjust National Acquisition. 

Paper oovers. Price 

Boaad in boards, cloth back , 



Dimes and Dollars. 

The Dead Drummer Boy. 

Home. 

Responsibility of American Citizeas. 

The Jester's Sermon. 

Left on the Battle Field. 

The American Flag. 

Oh ! Why should the Spirit of Mori ,j 

be Proud ? 
Parrhasius. 
The Vagabonds. 
A Bridal Wine Cup. 
Blanche of Devan's Last Words. 
Widow Bedott to Eldar Sniffles. 
A Psalm of the Union. 
Charge of a Dutch Magistrate. 
Stars in my Country's Sky. 
Bin gen on the Rhine. 
Eelig ions Character of President Iia» 

coin. 
The Raven. 
The Loyal Legion. 
Agnes and the Years. 
Cutaline's Defiance. 
Our Folks. 
The Beautiful Snow. 
The Ambitious Youth. 
The Flag of Washington. 
The Abbot of Walt ham. 
Ode to an Infant Son. 
The Scholar's Mission. 
Claude Melnotte's Apology. 
The Forging of the Anchor. 
The Wreck of the Hesperus. 
The Man of Ross. 
No Work the Hardest Work. 
What is Time ! 
Brutus's Oration oyer the Body oi 

Lucretia. 
What is That. Mother ? 
A Colloquy with Myself. 
St. Philip Xeri and the Youth. 
The Chameleon. 
Henry the Fourth's Soliloquy on 

Sleep. 
On Procrastination. 
Appendix. 

30cts. 

50 eta. 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
BRTJDDEB BONES 5 BOOK OF STUMP SPEECHES 



BURLESQUE ORATIONS. 

Also containing Humorous Lectures, Ethiopian Dialogues, Plan- 
tation Scenes, Negro Farces and Burlesques. Laughable inter- 
ludes and Comic Recitations. Compiled and edited by John F. 
Scott. 

CONTEXTS. 



If I may so Speak. Burlesque Ora- 
tion. 

Dr. Pillsbury's Lecture on Politics. 

Vegetable Poetry. Dialogue for 2 
males. 

Teco Brag's Lecture on Astronomy. 

"We saw tier but a Moment. 

Stocks Up, Stocks Down. Darkey 
dialogue for 2 males. " 

Brudder Bones' Love Scrapes. 

Stump Speech; or. "Anv other Man." 

"War's your Hoss. Dialogue Recital. 

Geology. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Tin-pan-o-ni-on. Pantomime for 
Leader and Orchestra. 

Dr. Puff Stuffs Lecture on Patent 
Medicines. 

Sailing. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Challenge Dance. Ethiopian Act for 
3 males. 

Lecture on Bad Boys. An amusing 
Recitation. 

Tony Pastor's Great Union Speech. 

A Tough Boarding House. Conver- 
sation between 2 Darkeys. 

Sleeping Child. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Ain't I 'Right, Eh ? Speech. 

"Wonderful Egg. Darkey Dialogue 
for 2 males. 

A Bootblack" s Soliloquy. Darkey. 

Lecture to a Fire Company. 

Julius' Peaches. Dialogue for 2 Dar- 
kevs. 

De I'rouble Begins at Nine. 

The Arkansas Traveler. Dialogue 
for 2 Violin players. 

Slap Jack. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 

Demi-Semi-Centennial Turkey-town 
Celebration. An Oration. 

Uncle Stove's Stump Speech. 

A Midnight Murder. Thrilling. 

Dot's What's de Matter. 

The Freezing Bed Feller. Recitation. 

Kr. and Mrs. Wilkins. 

Paddy Fagan's Pedigree. 

The Rival Darkeys. Act for 2 males. 

Hans Sourerout on Signs and Omens. 

Hun-ki-do-ris Fourth of Julv Oration. 



Josh Billings on Mosquitoes. 

Romantic History of Cap. John Smith. 

A Speech on Women. Humorous. 

An Impulsive Peroration. 

The Bet. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 

Old Times gone "By. Dialogue with 
songs for 2 Darkeys. 

The Echo. Act for 2 Negroes. 

Sol Slocura's Bugle. Dialect. 

"Western Stump Speech. Highfalutm'. 

In the Siiow Business. Short Dia- 
logue for 2 males. 

" We are." Favorite Stump Oratiea. 

An Original Burlesque Oration. 

"Waiting to see Him off. For 2 males. 

Patriotic Stump Speech. 

De Railroad Accident. Dialogue for 
2 Darkeys. 

The Dutchman's Lecture on the War. 

Professor Unworth's Atlantic Cable 
Lecture. 

The Three old Ladies. Recitation. 

Josh Billings' Lecture onto Musick. 

The Misfortunes of Brudder Bones' 
Lady-Love. Dialogue for 2 males. 

Deaf— In a Horn. Act for 2 males. 

Or any oder Man's Dog. A Speech. 

Happy Uncle Tom. Plantation Scene. 

Stick a Pin dere, Brudder Horace. 

Burlesque Lecture on Woman's 
Rights. 

Dat's wot de "Ledger" says. Dia- 
logue for two Darke vs. 

Goose Hollow Stump Speech. 

De Milk in de Cocoa Xut. 

A Dutchman's Answer. 

Lecture on Cats. Humorous. 

The Patent Screw; or, How tobeRe-j 
venged. f 

The Auctioneer. Characteristic. -. 

Hints on Courtship. To Young Men. 

A Dutch Recruiting Officer. 

Spirit Rappings. "Roaring Darkey 
Dialogue for 2 males. 

Dar's de Money. From "Othello." 

Let Her Rip. 'Burlesque Lecture. 

The Stranger. Ethiopian Scene for 
1 male and 1 female. 



16 mo. 188 pages. Paper covers. Pries 30 cts. 

Bound in boards; iUumanated; .;* .n. w:«». ..- ...60 eta. 



Popular Books sent Free of postage at the Prices annexed* 
Tambo's End-Men's Minstrel Gags. Containing some of the 

best jokes and repartees of the most celebrated " burnt cork " performers 
of our day. Tambo and Bones in all sorts and manner of scrapes. Alse 
containing a rich collection of Ballads, humorous and pathetic Darkey 
Dialogues, Sketches, Plantation Scenes, Eccentric Doings, Humorous 
Lectures, Laughable Interludes, Huge Africanisms, Burlesque Stump 
Speeches, Mirth-provoking Witticisms, Conundrums, Yarns, Plantation 
Songs and Dances, etc., etc. In short, a complete Hand-Book of Burnt 
Cork Drollery, which will be found alike useful to the professional and 

amateur. Everything new and rich. Paper covers 30 ctS 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS 

Tony Denier's Parlor Tableaux, or Living Pictures. Con- 
taining about eighty popular subjects, with plain and explicit directions 
for arranging the stage, dressing-rooms, lights, full description of cos- 
tumes, duties of stage manager, properties and scenery required, and all 
the necessary directions for getting them up. Among tne contents there 
are nine tableaux for male and an equal number for female characters 
only. A great number of them introduce groups of boys, and many mora 
groups of girls only; others again introducing both; and still more in 
which entire classes can take part. Everything is stated in a plain, simpla 
manner, so that it will be easily understood ; everything like style or un- 
necessary show has been avoided. For public or private entertainment, 
there is nothing which is so interesting as the tableau. Price. . . .25 OtS 

Tony Denier's Secret of Performing Shadow Pantomimes. 

Showing how to get them up and how to act in them; with ftill and con- 
cise instructions and numerous illustrations. Also xull &*id complete 
descriptions of properties and costumes. 

CONTENTS. 



Introduction; Shadow Bluff, or, 
Who's Who ? Tooth Drawing Extra- 
ordinary ; Amputation like Winking; 
The Haunted House; We Won't Go 
Home till Morning; Jocko, or the 
Mischievous Monkey; The Madcap 
Barber; Cribbage, or, The Devil 
among the Cards; The Lover's Strat- 
agem; The Game of Base Ball; Regu- 



lar Hash, or The Boarding-House 
Conspiracy; The Mechanical Statue; 
The African Serenaders; The Model 
Prize Fight; The Magic Cask, or, The 
Industrious and Idle Apprentice; 
The Tragical Duel, or, The Comical 
Rivals; Old Dame Trot and her 
Comical Cat. 

Price 25 CtS 



How to Take Money Out of Wall Street. A system of 

operating on Wall Street, based upon the "Law of Average," which con- 
stitutes the fundamental principle by which Life Insurance becomes 
lucrative. By Jared Flagg, Jr. It contains reliable Tables of the fluctua- 
tions of all the leading Stocks for the past ten years, upon which the 
averages are founded. Cloth 50 Ct3. 

Dick's Progressive Poker. This Game presents decided ad- 
vantages over Euchre for "Progressive" purposes. It is far more inter- 
esting ; distinctly the America: game, and is played for prizes in the* 
same manner as in Progressive Euchre. Paper covers 25 CtS. 

Burton's Amateur Actor. A complete guide to Private Theat- 
ricals ; giving plain directions for arranging, decorating and lighting the 
Stage ; with rules and suggestions for mounting, rehearsing and per- 
forming all kinds of Plays, Parlor Pantomimes and Shadow Pantomimes. 
Illustrated with numerous engravings, and including a selection of 
original Plays, with Prologues, Epilogues, etc. 16mo, illuminated paper 
cover 30 cts. 

i Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 CtS. 



RECITATIONS AND DIALOGUES. 



Dick's Series of Recitations and Readings. Nos. 1 to IS 

Dick's Dutch, French and Yankee Recitations. 

Dick's Irish Recitations. 

Dick's Dialogues and Monologues. 

Dick's Comic Dialogues. 

McBride's Comic Dialogues. 

McEride's All Kinds of Dialogues. 

McBride's New Dialogues. 

McBride's Humorous Dialogues. 

McBride's Temperance Dialogues. 

McBride's Comic Speeches and Recitations. 

Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. 

Frost's Humorous and Exhibition Dialogues. 

Frost's New Dialogues. 

Kavanaugh's Comic Pieces for Very Little Children. 

Kavanaugh's Humorous Dramas. 

Kavanaugh's Juvenile Speaker, for Very Little Children. 

Kavanaugh's Exhibition Reciter, for Very Little Children. 

Kavanaugh's New Speeches and Dialogues. 

Holmes' Very Little Dialogues for Very Little Folks. 

Graham's School Dialogues for Young People. 

Steele's Exhibition Dialogues. 

Martine's Droll Dialogues and Laughable Recitations. 

Beecher's Recitations and Readings. 

Howard's Recitations ; Comic, Serious and Pathetic. 

Wilson's Recitations for School Declamation. 

Spencer's Comic Speeches and Recitations. 

Barton's Comic Recitations and Dialogues. 

The price of each of the above books in paper covers is 30 
cents ; or bound in boards, with cloth back, 50 cents ; sent by 
mail, postage paid, to any address on receipt of the price. 

Send for catalogue, mailed free, giving full contents of each 
book, and the number and sex of the characters required for 
the dialogues. 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

P. O. Box 2975. 18 ANN ST.. NEW YORK. 



THEATRICALS, TABLEAUX, ETC. 

Amateur Theatricals and Fairy-Tale Dramas. Containing 

Original Plays for the Dra wing-Room. 

Alice in Wonderland and other Fairy Plays. Four Ju* 

enile Dramas, with Songs and Music, complete. 

Barmby's Plays for Young People. Original Plays with 

Songs, Choruses and Music for Parlor Performance. 

Howard's Drawing-Room Theatricals. Containing Short 

Plays in One Act and One Scene, for the Parlor. 

Hudson's Private Theatricals for Home Performance. 

Short Plays Expressly for Amateur Performance. 

Parlor Theatricals ; or Winter Evenings' Entertainment 

Dramatic Amusements and Comic Plays, Illustrated. 

Kavanaugh's Humorous Dramas. Comedies and Farces 

appropriate for Parlor Performance. 

Burton's Amateur Actor. A Complete Guide to Private 
Theatricals, with Pall Directions for Rehearsing. 

Frost's Tableaux and Shadow Pantomimes. A Collection 

of Tableaux, and Instructions for Shadow Pantomimes. 

Frost's Dramatic Proverbs and Charades. Expressly for 

Dramatic Performance, and Illustrated by Tableaux. 

Frost's Parlor Acting Charades. Arranged as Short Come- 
dies and Farces adapted for Parlor Performance. 

Hugent's Burlesque and Musical Acting Charades. Ar- 
ranged as Comedies and Parlor Operas with Music. 

Brudder Bones' Stump Speeches and Burlesque Orations. 

Darkey Dialogues, Lectures and Plantation SceEes. 

Dick's Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches and Speeches, 

Negro xTarces, Jokes, Lectures, Sermons and Gags. 

Tambo's End-Men's Minstrel Gags. Darkey Gerties, Ethi- 
opian Di>* ^>gues, Plantation Acts, and Minstrel Jokes. 

Dick's Parlor Exhibitions. Containing Living Statuary, 
Trick-Pantomimes, and many other Amusing Parlor Performances. 

Price of each, 30 cts. in paper covers, or 50 cts. in boards, 
mailed on receipt of price. Send for descriptive Catalogue free. 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 

P. O. Box 2975. 18 ANN ST 8 , KEW YORK, 



Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
Dick's Letter Writer for Ladies. Consisting of over Five 

Hundred entirely original Letters and Notes, with various replies, on 
every subject and occasion that a Lady in good society could possibly re- 
quire. They are all new and written expressly for this work. 

The Contents embbace the following Subjects: 



Hints on Letter Writing 

Letters of Introduction 

Answers to Letters of Introduction 

Letters and Notes of Invitation 

Forms of Cards 

Notes of Postponement 

Letters and Notes Accepting and 

Declining Invitations 
Letters of Apology 
Letters of Announcement 
Notes and Letters Accompanying Gifts 
Notes and Letters of Acknowledgment 
Notes and Letters Soliciting Favors 
Notes and Letters Offering, Granting 

or Declining Favors 



Notes Soliciting Donations 
Notes and Letters Granting or 

Refusing Donations 
Letters of Congratulation 
Letters of Condolence 
Answers to Letters of Condolence 
Huns hold Letters and Notes 
Forms of Household Orders 
Answers to Household Letters 
Business Letters and Notes 
Shopping by Mail 
Forms of Orders 
Miscellaneous Business Letters 
Family Letters 
Miscellaneous Notes and Letters 



These letters, &c, are excellent models of ease and elegant style, facility in 
method of expression, and correct form ; they furnish, therefore, valuable 
aid to Ladies who, however otherwise accomplished, are deficient in the 
necessary acquirement of the graceful and properly- worded correspond- 
ence which their social position demands. 
268 pages, large 16 mo., bound in Boards 50 Cts, 

Dick's Comic Dialogues. A collection of Easy and Effective 

Dramatic Dialogues specially adapted for performance by Young People, 
and containing the following attractive pieces : 



Satisfied All Round 
A Budget of Blunders 
My Wife's Mother 
An Unwelcome Intrusion 
A Splendid Beau 
The Billet Doux 
An Editor's Trials 
Won by Strategy 



My Next Door Neighbor 

Completely Sold 

The Quack Doctor 

Barking Up the Wrong Tree 

Pat's Dilemma 

A Family Flurry 

Never Mind de Why en Wharfo* 

The Musical Bore 

An Army of Applicants 

Eight of the Dialogues are for males only, requiring from two to six char- 
acters ; the remaining pieces are for both sexes. They are all bright, 
witty, very entertaining, and full of droll and effective "situations" &nd 
have been selected to fulfill the special conditions of the best dramatic 
effect and the least possible difficulties of costumes and scenery. 

184 pages, 16 mo., paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards 50 cts. 



The Art of Attack and Defence. A practical Manual of 

Fencing, Sword Exercise, Bayonet Practice and Boxing, affording thorough 
instructions in the modern method of Tencing, the mode of attack with 
sword against sword or bayonet, and with bayonet against sword or bay- 
onet, with the latest developments in the pugilistic art. By Major W. J. 
Elliott. This work is not only an excellent book of Instruction for be- 
ginners, but affords also advanced lessons for those who desire to become 
eminently proficient in any branch of the Art. 
Profusely illustrated 25 Cts. 



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Dick's Original Album Verses and Acrostics, 

Containing Original Yerses 



For Autograph Albums; 
To Accompany Bouquets; 
For Birthday Anniversaries; 
For Wooden, Tin, Crystal, Silver and 
Golden Weddings; 



For Album Dedications; 
To Accompany Philopena Forfeits; 
For Congratulation; 
For Valentines in General, and au 
Trades and Professions. 



It contains also Two Hundred and Eighteen Original Acrostic Verses, the 
'• initial letters of each verse forming a different Lady's Christian name, 
the meaning and derivation of the name being appended to each. The 
primary object of this booki3 to furnish entirely fresh and unhackneyed 
matter for ail who may be called upon to fill and adorn a page in a Lady's 
Album: but it contains also new and appropriate verses to suit Birthday, 
Wedding, and all other Anniversaries and Occasions to which verses of Com= 
pliment or Congratulation are applicable. Paper covers. Price. .50 cts. 
Bound in full cloth " . .75 cts. 

The Debater, Chairman's Assistant, and 

Rules of Order. A manual for Instruction and Keference in 
all matters pertaining to the Management of Public Meetings 
according to Parliamentary usages. It comprises : 



How to Form and Conduct all kinds of 
Associations and Clubs; 

How to Organize and Arrange Public 
Meetings, Celebrations, Dinners, Pic- 
nics and Conventions; 

Forms for Constitutions of Lyceums or 
Institutes, Literary and other Societies; 

Tfie Powers and Duties of Officers, with 
Forms for Treasurers' , Secretaries' , 
and other Official Reports; 

The Formation and Duties of Commit- 
tees; 



Rules of Order, and Order of Business, 
with Mode of Procedure in all Cases. 

How to draft Resolutions and other 
Written Business; 

A Model Debate, introducing the greatest 
p. ^ible variety of points of order , with 
correct Decisions by the Chairman; 

The Rules of Order, in Tabular Form, 
for instant reference in all Cases of 
Doubt that may arise, enabling a Chair- 
man to decide on all points at a 
glance. 



The Work is divided into different Sections, for the purpose of Consecutive 
Instruction as well as Ready Reference, and includes all Decisions and 

Buliugs up to the present day. Paper covers < 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS« 

Dick's Ethiopian Scenes, Variety Sketches 

i and Stump Speeches. Containing End-Men's Jokes, 



Negro Interludes and Farces; 
•Fresh Dialogues for Interlocutor 

Banjo; 
New Stump Speeches; ^ 

Humorous Lectures; 



and 



Dialect Sketches and Eccentricities; 
Dialogues and Repartee for Interlo&tUor 

and Bones; 
Quaint Burlesque Sermons; 
Jokes, Quips and Gags. 



It includes a number of Amusing Scenes and !N"egro Acts, and is 
full of the side-splitting vagaries of the best Minstrel Troupes 
in existence, besides a number of Original Eecitations and 
Sketches in the 2s"egro Dialect. 178 pages, paper covers. . 30 ct& 
Bound in boards,, cloth back. . . . . 5Qct&> 



Popular Books sent Froe of Postage at t2ie Prices annexed. 
Dick's Dutch, French and Yankee Dialect Recitations. An 

■unsurpassed Collection of Droll Dutch Blunders, Frenchmen's Funny- 
Mistakes, and Ludicrous and Extravagant Yankee Yarns, each Recitation 
being in its own peculiar dialect. To those who make Dialect Recitations 
a speciality, this Collection will be of particular service, as it contains all 
the best pieces that are incidently scattered through a large number of vol- 
umes of "Recitations and Readings," besides several new and excellent 
sketches never before published. 

170 pages, paper cover 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 

Dick's Irish Dialect Recitations. A carefully compiled 

Collection of Rare Irish Stories, Comic, Poetical and Prose Recitations, 
Humorous Letters and Funny Recitals, all told with the irresistible Humor 
of the Irish Dialect. This Collection contains, in addition to new and orig- 
inal pieces, all the very best Recitations in the Irish Dialect that can be 
gathered from a whole library of "Recitation " books. 
It is full of the sparkling witticisms and queer conceits of the wittiest 
nation on earth, and apart from its special object, it furnishes a fund of 
the most entertaining matter for perusal in leisure moments. 

170 pages, paper cover 30 Ct5. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

Worcester's Letter- Writer and Book of Business Forms for 

Ladies and Gentlemen. Containing Accurate Directions for Conducting 
Epistolary Correspondence, with 270 Specimen Letters, adapted to every 
Age and Situation in Life, and to Business Pursuits in General ; with an 
Appendix comprising Forms for Wills, Petitions, Bills, Receipts, Drafts, 
Bills of Exchange, Promissory Notes, Executors' and Administrators' 
Accounts, etc., etc. The Orthography of the entire work is based on 
Worcester's method, which is coming more and more into general use. 
This work is divided into two parts, the portion applicable to Ladies being 
kept distinct from the rest of the book, in order to provide better facilities 
for ready reference. 
216 pages. Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

Dick's Hand-Book Of Cribbage. Containing full 'directions 

for playing all the Varieties of the Game, and the Laws which govern 
them. This work is entirely new, and gives the correct method of play- 
ing the Six-Card, Five-Card, Two-Handed, Three-Handed, and Four-Handed 
Varieties of the Game, with instructive examples, showing clearly all the 
combinations of Hand, Crib, and Play, with a thorough investigation of 
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have been carefully revised in accordance with the recognized us: 
the present time, and constitute a reliable authority on all points of the 
Game. 18 mo. Cloth, Flexible 50 Ct3. 

Pick's Art Of Gymnastics. Containing practical and pro- 
gressive exercises applicable to all the principal apparatus of a well-ap 
pointed Gymnasium. Profusely illustrated. This work conveys plain and 
thorough instruction in the exercises and evolutions taught by the leading 
Vrofessors of Gymnastics . so that proficiency may be attained, even 
without the aid of a Teacher. It also offers to Teachers a ready-arranged 
s> s^eraatic course for their guidance. 
Artistically bound in cloth, 4to SI 00 

Dick's Dialogues and Monologues. Containing entirely or- 
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parlor peri:orinance, full of humor end telling 'situations," and requiring 
the leitst possible preparation of Costames and Scenery to make them 
thoroughly effective. 

180 pages, 1 mo , paper cover 30 ctSL 

Bound in board* doth back . v ,... v . 50 Ct* 



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Dr. Valentine's Comic Lectures ; or, Morsels of BTirth. for 

the Melancholy. A certain cure for the "blues" and all other serious 
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Mouths ; Comic Lectures on Animal Magnetism ; Humorous Specimens 
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Amusing Colloquies and Monologues ; Laughable Duologues and Charac- 
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Mrs. Partington's Carpet-Bag of Fun. Containing the Queer 

Sayings of Mrs. Partington, and the-Funny Doings of her remarkable Son 
Isaac. Also the most amusing collection extant of Playful Puns, Phunny 
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Rhymes Without Reason and Reason Without Rhymes, Anecdotes, Conun- 
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with 100 most amusing engravings, prepared expressly for this work from 
designs by the most eminent Comic Artists. Ornamented paper 
cover 30 cts. 

McLaren's Training in Theory and Practice. Giving the 

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Chips from Uncle Sam's Jack-Knife. Illustrated with over 

100 Comical Engravings, and comprising a collection of over 600 Laugha- 
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Fox's Ethiopian Comicalities. Containing Strange Sayings, 
Eccentric Doings, Burlesque Speeches, Laughable Drolleries and Funny 
Stories, as recited by the celebrated Ethiopian Comedian 10 Cts. 

Ned Turner's Circus Joke Book. A collection of the best Jokes, 

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celebrated Equestrian Clown and Ethiopian Comedian, Ned Turner .10 cts. 

■ 

Ned Turner's Black Jokes. A collection of Fnnny Stories, 
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Charley White's Joke Book. Containing a full expose* of all 

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Ethiopian Comedian, Charles White 10 CtS. 

Black Wit and Darky Conversations. By Charles mite. 

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Yale College Scrapes; or, How the Boys Go it at New 

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How to Conduct a Debate. A Series of Complete Debates, 
Outlines of Debates and Questions for Discussion. In the complete de- 
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of every debate throughout the work. By F*. Kowton. 232 pages. 

Paper covers , 50 CtS 

Bound in boards, cloth back 75 CtS 

The Amateur Trapper and Trap-Maker's Guide. A com- 
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set any of the traps described. It also gives the baits usually employed 
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possibility of failure. Large lGmo, paper covers 50 CtS 

Bound in boards, cloth back , 75 Ctfl 

Kow to Write a Composition. The use of this excellent hand- 
book will save the student the many hours of labor too often wasted in 
trying to write a plain composition. It affords a perfect skeleton of one 
hundred and seventeen different subjects, with their headings or divi- 
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173 pages, paper covers 30 CtS 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 CtS 

Duncan's Masonic Ritual and Monitor; or, Guide to the 

Three Symbolic Degrees of the Ancient York Rife, Entered Apprentice, Fellow 
Craft and Master Mason. And to the Degrees of Mark Master. Past Master, 
Most Excellent Master, and the Royal Arch. By Malcom C. Duncan. Ex- 
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This is a valuable book for the Fraternity, containing, as it does, the 
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Bound in cloth $2 50 

Leather tucks (pocket-book style), with gilt edges 3 00 

The Laws Of Athletics. How to Preserve and Improve 
Health, Strength, and Beauty ; and to Correct Personal Defects caused by 
Want of Physical Exercise. How to Train for Walking, Running. Row- 
ing, etc. with the Systems of the Champion Athletes ol the World. ln- 
liunn? the Latest Lairs of all Athletic Games and How to Play Them, 

\v William Wood, P ofessor of Gymnastics. Paper cover 25 CtS 

flexible cloth cover 50 eta. 

Jerry Thomas' Ear-Tender's Guide ; or, How to Mix all 

killds Of Fancy Drinks, An entirety new edition ; new plates ; new drinks. 
Containing clear and reliable directions tor mixing all the beverages used 
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variety . 16mo, illuminated paper cover 50 ctS. 

lOlilO, Cloth., innin ttit t, .... . ^ ................ . 75 CtS. 



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McBride's New Dialogues. Especially designed for School 
and Literary Amateur Entertainments ; containing entirely New and Origi- 
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By H. Elliott McBkide. 

Contexts. 

An Uncomfortable Predicament. 



The Opening Speech. 

The Cucumber Hill Debating Club. 

Married by the New Jus: ice. 

Bread on the Waters. 

An Unsuccessful Advance. 

When Women Have Their Rights. 

Only Another Footprint. 

Rosabella's Lovers. 

A Smart Boy. 

A Heavy Shower. 

Master of the Situation. 



A Happy Woman. 

The Somnambulist. 

Those Thompsons. 

Playing School. 

Tom and Sally. 

Assisting Hezekiah. 

A Visit to the Oil Regions. 

Breaking r up the Exhibition. 

Turning Around. 

A Little Boy's Debate. 

The Silver Lining. 

Restraining Jotham. 

A Shoemaker's Troubles, 

16mo, 178 pages, illuminated paper cover 30 Cts> 

Bound in boards 50 CtS 

Dick's Art. of Wrestling. A Hand-Book of thorough in- 
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Fully illustrated by well-designed engravings, exhibiting all the ag- 
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Dick's Book of Toasts, Speeches and Responses. Contain- 
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Speeches with appropriate replies suitable for the following occasions : 

Public Dinners, 

Soci >l Dinners, 

Convivial Gatherings, 

Art and Professional Banquets, 

Manufacturers' Meetings, 



Agricultural and Commercial Festivals, 
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Christmas, Thanksgiving and ether Fes- 
tivals, 



Friendly Meetings, 
Weddings an el their Anniversaries, 
Army and ISavy Banquets, 
Patriotic anel Political Occasions, 
Trades' Unions and Dinner*. 
Benedicts' and Bachelors' Banquets, 
Masonic Ceebrations, 
Sporting Coteries. 
All Kinds of Occasions. 
This work includes an instructive dissertation on the Art of making amusing 
After-dinner Speeches, giving hints and directions by the aid of which 
persons with only ordinary intelligence can make an entertaining and 
telling speech. Also, Correct Rules and Advice for Presiding at Table. 
The use of this work will render a poor and diffident speaker fluent and 
witty — and a good speaker better and wittier, besides affording an im- 
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to draw upon at will. Paper covers. Price 30 Cts. 

Dinner Wapkins, and How to Fold Them. Containing plain 

and systematic directions for arranging and folding Napkins or Serviettes 
for t 1 Dinner Table, from the simplest forms to the most elaborate and 
artistic designs. By Georgiana C. Clark. 
This little work embraces all the favorite designs in general use for trans- 
forming a plain Napkin into one of the most attractive and ornamental 
appendages to an elegantly arranged Dinner-Table. Some of the pa items 
being expressly intended for combining artistic display with floral decora- 
tion, appropriately symbolic of Bridal and other special occasions. 
Profusely illustrated 25 Cts. 



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Dick's Games of Patience ; or Solitaire with Cards. New and 

Revised Edition. Containing Sixty-four Games. Mnstra ted with Fifty ex- 
planatory full-page Tableaux. This treatise on Solitaire, a pastime which is 
steadily gaining in popularity, embraces a number of new and original 
Games, and all the Games of Patience at present in favor with the most 
experienced players. This comprehensive work contains the following 



Games 
Auld La) g Syne. 
Tarn O'Shanttr. 
The Four Seasons. 
Simplicity. 
The Gathering of the 

Clans. 
Napoleon at St. H' 
The Calculation. 
The Surprise Party. 
The Four Kings. 
The Clock. 
The Garden. 
The Queen's Audience. 
The Phalanx. 
The Idle Year. 
The Chameleon. 
La Bel'e Lucie. 
The Shamrocks. 
The House in the Wood. 
The Hous- on the Hill. 
The Gram<d Duchess. 
The Constitution. 



The Beleaguered Castle. 

The Citadel. 

The Exiled Kings. 

Penelope's Web. 

Napoleon's Square. 

The Court Yard. 

Tice Windmill. 

L*onVs Own. 

La Nivernaise. 

Tfie Four Corners. 

The Baker's Dozen. 

The Salic L 

The Sultan of Turkey. 

The Fr tress. 

The Hemispheres. 

The Elevens. 

The Chester Game. 

The Shah of Persia. 

The Empress of India. 

Th-> Zodiac. 

Th<> Blockade. 



The Fourieens. 
Napoleon' s Favorite. 
The Fijleen Puzzle. 
The Contra-Dance. 
The Betrothal. 
The Reinforcements. 
The Re 
The Frcg. 
The Pyramid. 
The Quadrille. 
The Chatelaine. 
The. Order of Precedence. 
The Congress. 
Thirteen Doicn. 
The Octagen. 
Light and Shade. 
St. Louis. 
Rouge et Noir. 
The Blondes and Bru- 
nettes. 
The Royal Cotillion. 
Nestor. 



The Besieged Cit;>. 

Each game is carefully and lucidly described, with the distinctive rules to be 
observed and hints as to the best means of success in play . The Tableaux 
furnish efficient aid in rendering the disposition of the cards necessary to 
each game plain and easily comprehensible. The difficulty usually attend- 
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cision in method and terseness of expression in the text, and the illus- 
trations serve to dispel any possible ambiguity that might be unavoidable 
without their aid. The work is attractive in style and elegant in execution, 
iiud will prove an interesting companion for many a solitary hour. Quarto. 

US pages. Board cover .* " 75 ctS. 

Cloth $1 00. 

Dick's Parlor Exhibitions, and How to Make them Suc- 
cessful. Containing complete and detailed directions for preparing and 
arranging Parlor Exhibitions and Amateur Performances. It includes : 

Tableaux Yivants. ular Ballads illustrated by awro- 

L'ving Portraits. priafe action. 

Living Statuary. i Charades of all kinds. 

Dame History's Peep Show. >r Pantomimes. 

Shadow Pantomimes. Punch and Judy. 

AND TFTY OTHER DIVERTING PARLOR PASTIMES AND AMCSEMENTfc 

It contains also a full Catalogue or the celebrated 'Art Exhibition," and a 
practical reatise on the wonderful Science of Second-Sight, by the aid 
of which all the startling effects and achievements of second-sight w*y be 
performed by any one possessing a tolerable retentive memory. 

This work is thoroughly practical and gives the fullest instructions for pre- 
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plete 7 r is illustrated with numerous engravings explaining the 

texr. 150 pacres. paper cover 30 CtS. 

Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Ct» 



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Dick's Commercial Letter Writer, and Book of Business 

Form?. Containing entirely original Models of Letters on all business 
subjects, with, appropriate replies : also, several specimens of Continuous 
Correspondence, exhibiting by a series of Letters, the commencement, pro- 
gress, and completion of Mercantile Transactions. By Wiuliam B. Dick. 

This work includes correct forms for Business Notices and Cards, and Part- 
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vrorded Answers to Inquiries and. Advertisements ; for occasional Circu- 
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kc. r and the correct method of adjusting General and Particular Averages. 

It contains, in addition, a Glossary of Technical Terms used in Commerce; a 
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and interesting information. 
200 pages, 16mo.„ Bound in Boards 50 cts. 

Dick's Society Letter Writer for ladies. Containing 

MORE THAN PIVE HUNDRED entirely Original Letters and Notes, 
with appropriate answers, on all Bivbjects and occasions incideut to life in 
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Edited by Wm. B. Dick. 
These new and Original Letters furnish excellent models which fulfill all 
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Dick's Mysteries of the Hand; or, Palmistry made Easy. 

Translated, Abridged and Arranged from the French Works of Desbarrolles, 
D'Arpentigny and De Para d' Hermes. This book is a concise summary of 
the elaborate works of the above-named authorities on Palmistry. 

The various lines and mounts on the palm of the hand, and the typical 
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By means of this book the hitherto occult mystery of Palmistry is mad* 
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told with surprising accuracy. Illuminated paper cover 50 CtS. 

Dick's Hand-Book of Whist. Containing Pole's and Clay's 
Rules for playing the modern scientific game; the Club Rules of Whist, 
and two interesting Double Dummy Problems. This is a thorough treatise 
m the game of Whist taken from ■* The American Hoyle " which is the 
3tandard authority. It covers all the points and intricacies which arise in 
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\>layers, with Drayson's remarks on Trumps, their use and abuse, and all 

1 ;he modern methods of signalling between partners. Price 25 Cts. 



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Pollard's Artistic Tableaux. With Picturesque Diagrams 
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necessary information in relation to the preparation of the stage, the 
dressing and grouping of the characters, and the method of arranging 
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anvonewho has assisted in their preparation knows that they must be 
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and artistic effects. This manual is prepared with diagrams furnished 
by a distinguished artist who has had large experience in the arrange- 
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Talk of Uncle George to his Nephew About Draw Poker. 

Containing valuable suggestions in connection with this Great Americau 
Game; also instructions and directions to Clubs and Social Card fari.t*, 
whose members play only for recreation and pastime, with timely \v. . - 
ings to young players. Illustrated. Quarto, Paper. Price 25 Ct?. 

Holberton's Art of Angling; or, How and Where to Ca'ci 

Fish. A practical Han d-Book for learners in everything that pertan^ ic> 
the art of Fishing with Rod and Reel. By Wakeman Emberton, Fully 
illustrated. It describes the special methods and appliances requisite to 
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find them ; with practical hints on camping out, necessary outfit, and the 
best choice of apparatus and baits, etc. Cloth, flexible 50 cts. 

Proctor on DntW-Poker. A Critical Dissertation on " Poke* 
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Draw-Poker, with Practical Remarks upon the Chances and Probabilities 
of the Game, and a Critical Analysis 01 the Theories and Statistics ad- 
vanced by Blackbridge-anu other writers on the subject, and especially in 
regard to their doctrines relating to cumulative recurrences. Small 
quarto 15 ccs. 

Lander's Revised Work of Odd-Fellowship. Containing all 

the Lectures, complete, with Regulations for Opening, Conducting, and 
Closing a Lodge ; together with Forms of Initiation, Charges of the 
Various Officers, etc., with the Complete work in the following Decrees: 
Initiation ; First, or Pink Degree ; Second, or Royal Blue Degree : Third, 
or Scarlet Degree. By Edwin F. Lander. This hand-book of the Revised 
Work of the Independent Order of Odd-Fellowship has been prepared in 
conformity with the amendments and alterations adopted by the Sover- 
eign Grand Lodg^ of Canada in September, 1880. 16mo, i :per cover, 25 ctJ. 

The Jolly Joker ; or, a Laugh all Round. An Immense CcL 

lection of the Funniest Jokes, Drollest Anecdotes and most Side-Splitti g 
Oddities in existence, profusely illustrated from beginning to end, in the 
most inirth-prov<sking style. The illustrations alone are sufficient for a 
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12mo, 144 pages, illu unrated cover 25 CL*. 

Some Comicalities. A Whole Volume of Jolly Jokes, Quaint 

Anecdotes, Funny Stories, Brilliant Witticisms, and Crushing Conun- 
drums, with as many droll illustrations to the page — and every page at 
that — as can ba <"-<^«»^cl into it. 144 pages. Illustrated cover 25 Cts. 



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Barber's American Book of Eeady-Made Speeches. Con- 

taming 159 original examples of Humorous and Serious Speeches, suitable 
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appropriate replies to each. Including: 



Presentation Speeclies, 
Convivial Speeches. 
Festival Speeches. 
Addresses of Congratulation* 
A ddr esses of Welcome. 
Addresses of Compliment 
Political Speeches. 

Dinner and Supper Speeches for Chios, 
etc. 



Of -Hand Speeches on a Variety *) 

Subjects. 
Miscellaneous Speeches. 
Toasts and Sentiments for Public ana 

Private Entertainments. 
Preambles and Resolutions of Con< 

grahdation, Compliment and Con. 

dolence. 



With this book any person may prepare himselt to make a neat little speech, 
or reply to one when called upon to do so. They are all short, appropriate 
and witty, and even ready speakers may profit by theui. Paper. . . . 50 ct3. 
Bound in boards, cloth back *& cts * 

Day's American Ready-Seckoner. By B. H. Day. This 

Keady-Rcckouer is composed of Original Tables, which are positively cor- 
rect, having been revised in the most careful manner. It is a book ot 1M 
pages, and embraces more matter tli.m 5u0 pasres of any other Reckoner. 11 
contains: Tables for Rapid Calculations of Aggregate Values, Wages, bal- 
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and useful calculations which it would be impossible to enumerate m an adver- 
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given in a simple manner, and is made so plain, that any person can use it 
at once without any previous study or loss of time. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 5Q Cts. 

Bound in cloth, gilt back & CcS. 

The Art and Etiquette of Making Love. A Manual of Love, 

Courtship and Matrimony. It tells 



Hoio to cure bashfulness, 

How to commence a courtship, 

How to please a sweetheart or lover, 

How to write a love-letter, 

How to "pop the question" 

How to act before and after aproposal f 

flow to accept or reject a proposal, 



How to break of an engagement, 
How to act after an engagement, 
Hoio to act as bridesmaid or groom* 

man. 
Hoio the etiquette of a wedding and tin 

after reception should be observed. 



And, in fact, how to fulfill every duty and meet every contingency con* 
nected with courtship and matrimony. 176 pages. Paper covers ....30 cts. 
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

vfraak Converse's Complete Banjo Instructor Without a 

Master. Containing a choice collection of Banjo Solos *nd Hornpipes, 'Walk 
Arounds, Reels and Jigs, Songs and Banjo Stories, progressively arranged 
and plainly explained, enabling the learner to become a proficient banjoist 
without the aid of a teacher. "The necessary explanations accompany each 
tune, and are placed under the notes on each page, plainly showing thg 
string required, the finger to be used for stopping it, the manner of striking, 
and the number of times it must be sounded. The Instructor is illustrates 
with diagrams and explanatory symbols. 100 pages. Bound in boards,, 
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Spayth's Draughts or Checkers for Beginners. This treat- 
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the most complete and instructive elementary work on Draughts ever pub- 
lished. Cloth, gilt side ......................... »/i> etS. 



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Subduing and Breaking Vicious Horses; His Improved Plan of Manatrinz 
Young Colts, and Breaking them to the Saddle, to Harness and the Sulkv 
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plete Earrier or Horse Doctor; being the result of fifty years' extensive 
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How to Amuse an Evening Party. A Complete collection d 

Home Recreations. Profusely Illustrated with over Two Hundred fine 
fc-ood-cuts, containing Round Games and Forfeit Games, Parlor Ma^ic and 
Curious Puzzles, Comic Diversions and Parlor Tricks, Scientific liecre -tiors 
and Evening Amusements. A young man with this volume may render him- 
self the beau ideal of a delightful companion at everv part-*- aud win the 
hearts of all the ladies, by his powers of entertainment. Bound in orna- 
mental paper covers 30 eta. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back ........ '. '. '. '. '. '. * ". . . 50 ct& 

Frost's Laws and By-Laws of American Society. A Com- 
plete Treatise on Etiquette. Containing plain and Reliable Directions for 
Deportment in every Situation in Life, by S. A. Frost, author of "Frost's 
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of deportment and polite behavior. Paper covers 30 cts. 

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Frost's Original Letter- Writer. A complete collection of Orig- 
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worth double the price asked for the book. We assure our readers that it is 
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North's Book of Love-Letters. "With directions how to write 

and when to use them, and 120 Specimen Letters, suitable for Lovers of any 
age and condition, and under all circumstances. Interspersed with the au- 
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guidance and advice in matters of Love, Courtship and Marriage. By In- 

goldsby Xorth. Bound in boards 50 cts. 

Bound* in cloth 75 cts. 

How to Shine in Society; or, The Science of Conversation. 

Containing the principles, laws and general usages of polite society, includ- 
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agreeable conversation, and for choosing topics appropriate to the time* 
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The Poet's Companion. A Dictionary of all Allowable Ekvmes 

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Mind Your Stops. Punctuation made plain, and Composition 
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Five Hundred French Phrases. A book giving all the French 

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Steele's Exhibition Dialogues. A Collection of Dramatic 

Dialogues and easy Plays, excellently adapted for Amateurs in Parlor 
and Exhibition Performances ; with Hints and instructions relative to 
management, arrangements and other details necessary to render them 
successful. By Silas S. Steele. 

CONTENTS. 



The Stage-Struck Clerk. For 6 Males 

and 3 Females. 
The Tailor of Tipperary. For 7 Males 

and 4 Females. 
Opera Mad. For 7 Malts and 1 Fe- 
male. 
The Painter's Studio. Portrait Sketch. 

For 2 Males. 
The Well of Death, F>r 2 males. 
Blanche of Devan. Fur 3 Males and 1 

Female. 
Tlic Youth Who Never Saw a Woman. 

For 3 Males ami 1 Female. 
The Masked Ball. For 3 Mules and 2 

Females. 

Paper covers. Price 

Bound in boards, cloth back 



The Hypochondriac. For 4 Males and 1 

F-.male. 
Two Families in One Room. For 4 

Mal-s and 1Fema.es. 
The Country Cousin. For 4 Males and 

2 Females. 
The Carpenter and his Apprentice, Fur 

S Male*. 
The Yankee Tar's Return. For 5 Males 

and 1 Female. 
The Lawyer, Doctor, Soldier and Aetor. 

For 3 Males. 
The Children in the Wood. For 6 

Males and 4 Females. 
The Wizards Warning. For 2 MaUs. 

30cts. 

50 cts. 



Kavanaugli's Humorous Dramas for School Exhibitions and 

Private Theatricals* Consisting of short and easy Dramatic Pieces, 
suitable for Amateur Exhibitions. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh, author 
of " The Juvenile Speaker." 



Contents. 



i 



Contents. 



Eh! What is it? 

That Awful Girl 

The Lady Killer 

How I Made My Fortune.. 
A Cure for Obstinancy... . 
Aunt Jerusha's Mistake. . 



3 


2 


5 


5 


2 


1 


6 




3 


9 


2 


2 



A Fair Fight 

Between Two Stools. . . 
The Pet of the School. . 

Maud May's Lovers 

The Heiress' Ruse 

The Cardinal's Godson. 



4 

2 



4 
3 
3 

2 
4 

1 

The foregoing collection of Dramas are all original, and were written ex- 
pressly for School and Parlor performance. % 

Bound in boards 50 cts. 

Paper covers 30 Cts. 

Dick's One Hundred Amusements for Evening Parties, 

Picnics and Social Gatherings. This book is full of Original Novelties. 
It contains : 



New and Attractive Games, clearly il- 
lustrated by means of Witty Ex- 
amples, shelving how each may be 
most successfully played. 

Surpassing Tricks, easy of performance. 

Musical and other innocent sells. 



A variety of new and ingenious puzzles. 

Comical illusions, fully described. 
These surprising and groiesque illu- 
sions are very startling in their 
effects, and present Utile or no diffi- 
culty in their preparation. 



ALSO AN ENTIRELY NEW VERSION OF THE CELEBRATED ' ' MRS. JARLEY'S WAJt 

WORKS." 

The whole being illustrated by sixty fine wood engravings. 

Illuminated paper covers 30 cts. 

Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 



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Madame Le Normand's Fortune Teller. An entertaining 

book, said to have been written by Madame Le iNormand, the celebrated 
French Fortune Teller, who was frequently consulted by the Emperor 
Napoleon. A party of ladies and gentlemen may amuse themselves for 
hours with this curious book. It tells fortunes by " The Chart of Fate " (a 
large lithographic chart), and gives 624 answers to questions on every imag- 
inable subject that may happen in the future. It explains a variety of ways 
for telling fortunes by Cards and Dice ; gives a list of 79 curious old su« 
- y perstitions and omens, and 187 weather omens, and winds up with the cele* 
M : brated Oraculum of Napoleon. We will not endorse this book as infallible; 
but we assure our readers that it is the source of mucli mirth whenever in- 
troduced at a gathering of ladies and gentlemen. Bound in boards. 40 CtSc 

f Th.e Fireside Magician; or, The Art of Natural Magit 

Made Easy. Being a scientific explanation of Legerdemain, Physical 
Amusement, Recreative Chemistry, Diversion with Cards, and of all the 
mysteries of Mechanical Magic, with feats as performed by Herr Alexander, 
Robert Heller, Robert Houdin, " The "Wizard of the ^NTorth," and distin- 
guished conjurors — comprising two hundred and fifty interesting mental and 
physical recreations, with explanatory engravings. 132 pages, paper. 30 Ct3. 
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

Howard's Book of Conundrums and Riddles. Containing 

over 1,200 of the best Conundrums, Riddles, Enigmas, Ingenious Catches 
and Amusing Sells ever invented. This splendid cbllectionof curious para- 
doxes will afford the materialfor a never-ending feast of fun and amusement. 
An£ person, vrith the assistance of this book, may take the lead in enter- 
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Paper covers 30 Cts. 

Bound in boards, cloth back , 50 cts. 

The Parlor Magician; or, (fee Hundred Tricks for the 

Drawing-Room. '"'Containing an extensive and miscellaneous collection of 
Conjuring and Legerdemain, embracing: Tricks with Die<5, Dominoes and 
Cards; Tricks with Ribbons, Rings and Fruit; Tricks with Coin, Hand- 
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121 engravings. Paper covers 30 Cts. 

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Book of Riddles and 500 Home Amusements. Containing 

a curious collection of Riddles, Charades and Enigmas ; Rebuses. Anagrams 
and Transposition ; Conundrums and Amusing Puzzles ; Recreations in 
Arithmetic, and Queer Sleights, and numerous other Entertaining Amuse- 
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Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 

..The Book of Fireside Games. Containing an emanation of a 

variety of Witty, Rollicking, Entertaining and Innocent Games and Amus- 
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the thing for social gatherings, parties and pic-nics. Paper covers.. 30 Cts. 
Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 

The Book of 500 Curious Puzzles. Containing a large collec- 
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In umbers, Amusing Tricks in Geometry; illustrated with a great variety of 

Engravings. Paper covers £0 Cts. 

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Parlor Tricks with Cards. Containing explanations of all the 

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I 



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mts. This work is printed in a beautiful script type, and hence com. 

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understood lessons in Book-keeping. Tae several pages have ex. 

plauations at the bottom to assist the learner, in smail type. As a pattern 

for opening book accounts it is especially valuable — particularly for those whe 

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How to Learn the Sense of 3,000 French Words in one 

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By .Franz Thimm ". 25 el", 

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Martine's Sensible Letter- Writer. Being a comprehensive 

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simplest matters of life, adajJted to all ages and conditions — 



EMBRACING, 

Letters ef Courtesy, Friendship and 

Affection ; 
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A Choice Collection of Love-Letters, 

for Every Situation in a Courtship ; 
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.♦. Letters of Recommendation and 

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I Letters between Parents and Children; 

Letters of Friendly Counsel and Re- 
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Letters soliciting Advice, Assistance 
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The whole containing 308 Sensible Letters and Xotes. This is an invalua- 
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Btartine's Hand-Book of Etiquette and Guide to True 

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vulgar habits. Containing clearand comprehensive directions for correct 
manners, conversation, dress, introductions, rules for good behavior at 
Dinner Parties and the Table, with hints on carving and wine at table; 
together with the Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Boom, Evening 
Parties, and the usages to be observed when visiting or receiving calls ; 
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Dick's Quadrille Call-Book and Ball-Room Prompter. Con- 
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quantity of music necessary for each figure, and simple explanations of all 
the figures which occur in Plain and Fancy Quadrilles. This book giveg 
plain and comprehensive instructions how to dance all the new and popular 
dances, fully describing 



The Opening March or Polonaise, 
Various Plain and Fancy Quadrilles, 
Wcdtz and Glide Quadrilles, 
Plain Lancers and Caledonians, 
•Glide Lancers and Caledonians, 
Saratoga Lancers, 
Tlie Parisian Varieties, 
•The Prince Imperial Set, 
Social and Basket Quadrilles, 
Nine-Pin and Star Quadnlles, 
Gavotte and Minuet Quadrilles, 



March and Cheat QiiadriUes, "Z 

Favorite Jigs and Contra-Dances, 
Polka and Polka Redowa, 
Redowa and Redowa Waltz, 
Polka Mazourka and Old Style Walts. 
Modern Plain Waltz and Glide, 
Boston Dip and Sop Waltz, 
Five-Step Waltz and Schottuche, 
Tarsovienne and Z ulm a L' Orientate, 
Galop and Deux Temps, 
Esmeralda, Sicilienne, Danish Danoe, 



AND OVER ONE HUNDRED FIGURES FOR THE "GERMAN;" 

To which is added a Sensible Guide to Etiquette and Proper Deportment in 
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Fontaine's Golden Wheel Dream-Book and Fortune-Teller. 

Being the most complete book on Fortune Telling ever printed, containing 
an alphabetical list of Dreams, with their interpretation and the lucky 
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It shows how to foretell future events by the Lines on the Hand, by Moles 
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The American Housewife and Kitchen Directory. This val- 
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The American Card Player. An entirely new edition, con- 
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best cuthorities, with all the accepted varieties of these popular games. 
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Draiper's Six Hundred Ways to Make Money. A reliable 

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The Language Of Flowers. A. complete dictionary of the 
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The Ladies' Love Oracle. A Complete Fortune Teller of 
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Weldon's Fancy CbStTimeS. Containing complete instructions 

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the materials needed for each Costume, and illustrated with over fifty 
full-page engravings. 
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"Trumps' " New Card Games. Containing correct method 
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Blackbridge's Complete Poker Player. A Practical Guide- 
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The Modern Pocket Hoyle. By " Tramps." Containing all 

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Hoyle's Games. A complete Mannal of the laws that govern all 

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The Biblical Reason Why. A Hand-Book fd* 

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work gives reasons founded upon the Bible, and assigned by 
the most eminent Divines arid Christian Philosophers, for the 
great and all-absorbing events recorded in the History of the 
Bible, the life of our Saviour and the Acts of His Apostles. 
EXAMPLE. 



Why did the first patriarcJis attain 
such extreme longevity ? 

Why was the term of life afterwards 
shortened ? 

Why are there several manifest varia- 
tions in names, facts and dates, be- 
tween the books of Rings and Chron- 
icles? 



Why is the book of the Prophecies oj 

Isaiah a strong proof of the authen* 

ticity of Vie whole Bible ? 
Why did our Saviour receive the name 

of Jesus? 
Why did John the Baptist hesitate to 

administer the rite of Baptism to 

Jesus ? 



This volume answers 1,493 similar questions. Beautifully illus- 
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The Reason Why: General Science. A care- 
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though generally known, are imperfectly understood. A book 
for the million. This work assigns reasons for the thousands of 
things that daily fall under the eye of the intelligent observer, 
and of which he seeks a simple and clear explanation. 

EXAMPLE. 

Why does silver tarnish when exposed 

to light ? 
Why do some colors fade, and others 

darken, when exposed to Hie sun ? 
Why is the sky blue t 

This volume answers 1,325 similar questions. 356 pages, bound 

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The Reason Why: Natural History. Giving 

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tfjncts of the various orders of the Animal Kingdom. 
• EXAMPLE. 



What develops electricity in the 

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Why does dew form round drops upon 

the leaves of plants ? 



SrTiy has the lion such a large mane ? 
Whydo«3 the otter, when hunting for 

ftza, swim against the stream ? 
Why do dogs turn around two or three 

times before they lie down ? 
Why have flat fishes their upper sides 

dark, and their under sides white ? 



Why do sporting dogs make what is 

termed " a point '7 
Wliy do birds of tea roost upon one. leg f 
Why do frogs keep their mouths closed 
jwhile breathing ? 

Why aoes ine wren build several nests, 
but occupy only one ? 

This volume answers about 1,500 similar questions. 
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Frost's American Etiquette; or, Laws of Good Society. 

A condensed but thorough treatise on Etiquette and its Usages in Amer- 
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every situation and under all circumstances in life, including special 
directions and instructions on the following subjects : 



Letters of Introduction. 

Salutes and Salutations. 

Calls. 

Conversation. 

Invitations. 

Dinner Company. 

Balls. 

Morning and Evening Parties. 

Visiting. 

Street Etiquette. 

Riding and Driving 

Traveling. 



Etiquette in Church. 

Etiquette for Places of Amusement 

Servants. 

Hotel Etiquette. 

Etiquette at Weddings. 

Baptisms and Funerals. 

Etiquette with Children and at the 

Card Table. 
Visiting Cards. 
Letter Writing. 
The Lady's Toilet. 
The Gentleman's Toilet. 



BESIDES ONE HUNDRED UNCLASSIFIED LAWS APPLICABLE TO ALL OCCASIONS. 

Paper covers .30 cts. 

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Live and Learn; or, One Thousand Mistakes of Daily 

Occurrence in Speaking, Writing and Pronunciation, Corrected and 
Explained. There are hundreds of persons who are sensible of their 
deficiencies on many points connected with the Grammar of their own 
tongue, and who, by self tuition, may correct such deficiencies. For 
such persons this book has been written. 



It shows all the current improprieties 
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It gives clear rules for the use of Cap- 
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It gives plain, general ru'es for spel- 
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It gives detailed instructions for writ- 
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It Corrects and Explains 1,000 Mis- 
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It Explains the many Perplexing 
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student, 

It Explains most of the Latin and 
French \oords and phrases of fre- 
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magazines and Books. 

It shows how to punctuate and para- 
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213 pages, paper cover 30 ots. 

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Confectioner's Hand-Book. Giving plain and practical direc- 
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Comiits, Preserves, Sugar Boiling, Iced Liquors, Waters, Gum, Paste and 
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Howard's Book Of Love-Poetry. A Curious and Beautiful 

Collection of Tenderly Delicate, Sweetly Pathetic, and Amusingly Quiz- 
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admired selections from the leading Poets suitable for quotations in Lore- 
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^Trump's" American Hoyle ; or, Gentleman's 

Hand-Book of Games, This work contains an exhaustive 
treatise on Whist, oy "William Pole, F.R.S.. and the rules foi 
playing that game as laid down by the Hon. James Clay. It also 
contains clear descriptions of all the games played in the United 
States^ with the Amarican rules for playing them ; including 



fuckrc, Bezigue, Cribbage, Baccara, 
All Fours. Loo, Poker, Brag. Piqitet, 
Pedro Sa**ho, Fenuchle. Railroad 
Euchre. Jack Pots, Moa.rU, Boston, 



California Jack, Cassino, Ch(*$8 
Checkers, Backganvmon, BUUard^ 
Dominoes, and a hundred othdf 



4- + 
+ 4 






This work is designed as an American authority in all ^rnnes of 
skill and chance, and will settle any disputed pointT It has 
been prepared with great care, and is not a re-hash of English 
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Spayth's American Draught Player ; or, The 

Theory and Practice of the Scientific Game oi Checkers. 

Simplified and Illustrated with Practical Diagrams. Containing 
upwards of 1,700 Games and Positions. By Henry Spayth- 
Pifth edition, with over two hundred Corrections an4 law 




provements. Containing: The Standard La/vs of the Game — 
Full Instructions— Draught Board [Numbered — Names of the 
Games, and how formed— The ** Theory of the Move and its 
Changes'" practically explained and illustrated with Diagrams — 
Playing Tables for Draught Clubs — New Systems of Numbering 
the Board — Prefixing Signs to the Yariations — list of Draught 
Treatises and Publications chronologically arranged. 
Bound in cfcth, gilt side and back ,,,.♦••• $3.00 



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be found in this really funny book. The Preface and Dedication 
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How to Conduct a Debate. A Series^ 

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* the debate formally opened, an array of brilliant argument* 
.. adduced on either side, and the debate closed according to par- 
liamentary usages. The second part consists of questions for 
debate, with heads of arguments, for and against, given in a 
condensed form for the speakers to enlarge upon to suit thei; 
own fancy. In addition to these are 

A Large Collection of Debatable Questions. 
***$ authorities to be referred to for information are given at the 
v itfse of every debate. By Frederic Rowton. 

232 pages, paper * 50 cts. 

"Bomvl m Knurr!*, plo+h bark. , 75 Cfe 



Sent Vrve of Postage on Receipt of Price. 

The Secret Out : or, 1,000 Tricks with Cards, 

aril Other Recreations. Illustrated with over 300 engravings. 
JL book which explains all the Tricks and Deceptions with Play 
ing Cards ever known, and gives, besides, a great many new 
ones. The whole being described so carefully, with engravings 
to illustrate them, that anybody can easily learn how to perform 
them. This work also contains 240 of the best Tricks of Leger 
aemain w addition to the Card Tricks. 




SYNOPSIS OF CONTENTS. 



J*Ain 1.— Tricks with Cards performed 
by skillful Manipulation and Sleight 
of Hand. 
"Tart II. — Trick* performed by the aid 
of Memory, Mental Calculation and 
the Peculiar Arrangement of the 
Cards. 

Part III.— Tricks with Cards per- 

' formed by the aid of Confederacy 

1 and sheer Audacity. 

Part IV. — Tricks performed by the 
aid of Ingenious Apparatus and 
Prepared Cards. 

Part V.— Tricks of Legerdemain, Con- 
juring, Sleight of Hand and other 
Fancies, commonly called White 
Magic. 



Part VI. —Tricks in White Magia 
performed by the aid of Ingenious 
Contrivance and Simple Apparatus. 

^ art VII. — Natural Magic, or Recre- 
ations in Science, embracing Curious 
Amusements in Magnetism, Mechan- 
ics, Acoustics, Chemistry, Hydrau- 
lics and Optics. 

Part VIII.— ~ A Curious Collection o; 
Entertainvig Experiments, Amus- 
ing Puzzles, Queer Sleights, Includ- 
ing the Celebrated Science of Second 
Sight, Recreations in Arithmetic, 
and Fireside Games for Family Pas- 
time, and other Astonishing Seven* 
tific Paradoxes and Attractive. 
Amusements. 



The Secret Oft is, by all odds, the most curious book that ha? 
been published in nianyysars, and lays bare the whole machinery 
m magic, and with a simplicity so perfect that no bod v can fan 
*o become a domestic magician in a week, with very httle study 
:>nd practice. Such is the unerring process of instruction adopted 
in this volume, that no reader can faS to succeed m executing 
every Trick, Experiment, Game, etc., set down, if he will at au 
devote his attention, in his leisure hours, to the subject ; and, 
&s every trick with cards known will be found in this collection. 
K may be considered the only complete work on the subject ever 
published. 400 pages, bound in cloth, gilt $1.50 



GOOD B 



Sent Postage-Paid at th^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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